


Moon of Fire

by feysandsmut



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOTAR / TOG crossover, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22083802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feysandsmut/pseuds/feysandsmut
Summary: An ACOTAR x TOG crossover about feysand's son and rowaelin's daughter.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Feysand's son x Rowaelin's daughter
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I have finally uploaded Moon of Fire online! Unfortunately, I had deleted the drafted version along with my Tumblr blog so this version you're reading now is the undrafted version. Please give it patience as it probably has a lot of mistakes.
> 
> I also would like to add that while I was writing the few first chapters of this fanfic, I was reading The Winner's Curse by Marie Rutkoski and was inspired by the book. All appropriate ideas and credit goes to her.
> 
> Enjoy!

Darkness covered Seraphine.

She was delirious, sprawled on a wooden floor, a wild raging pain deep in her head. Though her hands—bloody,  _ shackled _ .

Despite this, a bigger problem was at hand.

Below her, a circle similar to the one drawn by Amren and Feyre at the House of Wind was slightly visible in the dark.

_ I came alive when I met you _ she had said to him before she was to go back home to her family. To Terrasen.

Now, bars surrounded her from all sides. Wooden walls caved her in. She was trapped, her powers, her  _ fire _ non-existent.

_ Not again, not again, not again. _ Seraphine forced her mind to calm, but she didn’t feel in control of herself anymore.

A corner of the cloth covering the wagon was pulled back. She stared at a wild-eyed man, his eyes the colour of blood. He wore strange clothing she had never seen before.

“Got somewhere else to be, princess?”

He laughed as she said nothing.

“Didn’t think so.”

The man tried to grab her through the bars, laughing maniacally, and she felt now that the tunic once owned by Kastiel was too short to be worn here.

“Don’t try anything funny,” he spat at her.

Seraphine had been so sure that her family needed her here, that they were in danger. Now she didn’t know what to think.

She swallowed her fear and listened intently at the sounds outside. The rustling of never-ending trees. The breeze of fresh grass. Horses, being tended to. Though her powers were gone, her fae hearing wasn’t. They must have been at an outpost, her capturers taking a break and resting the horses.

Near silent footsteps approached the horses at the front of the carriage, murmuring gentle words to the animals.

Seraphine was drawn to their tender voice. She crawled towards the edge of the wagon, tearing out a small piece of cloth from the bottom of her dress.

She took a deep breath and pushed her hands through the bars and the cloth towards the horse tender.

“For anyone in Terassen,” she whispered to him, dropping the piece. Seraphine didn’t know if he caught it, or if it simply landed on the ground.

The horse tender was about to make a sound, about to speak to her perhaps, before he was yanked heavily back. He yelled in fright, a commotion breaking off as Seraphine heard the sound of skin pounding on skin.

The doors to her wagon opened, blinding her with bright daylight.

“What are you doing?” the red-eyed guard yelled.

Seraphine crawled to the back of the wagon, making herself into a ball. She was weak. She had no powers. She was not strong enough to escape into the heart of what could only be Oakwald Forest.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” the man spat, grabbing Seraphine by the shoulders and shaking her. “Tell me what you gave him.”

Seraphine said nothing.

Red eyes were the last thing she saw before the pommel of his sword knocked her out.

*****

The journey through Oakwald forest left Seraphine’s mind in tatters. Her cheek lay on the rough wood, the vibrations of the wagon the only thing keeping her sane. She couldn’t really tell how many days had passed, how many hours she had spent in the darkness of her moving prison. The men forced her a drink which suppressed her strength and powers; something that she would desperately need if they were traveling through Oakwald Forest. Though even then—the thought shook her to her very core—there was a high chance that they were headed to Terrasen. To her  _ home _ . She felt a certain way at the thought of these men bargaining her for whatever it is they desired from her court. She hasn’t been home in what felt like a lifetime ago. But even still, nothing would have changed. Terrasen would still be heavily guarded and thriving with the rule of her parents. Did these men think they would simply be able to walk in, make a trade and then make it out alive? Maybe going home didn’t seem so bad now.

Her heavy lids threatened to close again, just before she saw in the corner of her wagon, a flower, the moon illuminating it through the covers. She crawled towards it, her sodden tunic dragging through the markings on the wooden planks. She picked up the delicate blue, almost silver thing, pressing it to her face, inhaling the familiar scent—moonflower.

She swore she could hear giggling in the far distance.

*****

Rough hands dragged Seraphine through the doors of the wagon. She awoke, feeling dreary and stiff, at the smell of salt invading her nostrils. It was strong. Unpleasant.  _ Wrong _ .

With shaky legs, she was led into a passage through a wall enclosed by iron gates.

A busty woman with dead, silver eyes greeted her. “Your mother used to be famous around here,” she said as she pushed a cup into Seraphine’s hands. “As your Overseer, I’ve got special plans for the special Princess of Terrasen.”

The woman’s words blurred together. Seraphine was so hungry, so thirsty, that she couldn’t focus. The cup shook in her hand. Her mind knew not to take it, but her body had a mind of its own. She would have consumed everything and anything.

“You do everything I say here. When I tell you to work, you work, I tell you to eat, you eat, I tell you to stand down, you stand down.” The Overseer eyed Seraphine up and down, from her tangled hair to her too short tunic. “Everything I say, you do. Besides,” she snickered, “no one here will recognise you. Now drink.”

Still unsure of what the woman was saying, Serahine tipped the contents of the cup into her mouth, tasting the sweetness of the liquid. Relief engulfed her in a warm hug. It was strangely calming, this uncertainty, though Seraphine could tell there was something wrong about it, like this whole place, and like the woman in front of her. But now, all that Seraphine could think was her want, her need to work. She looked around wildly at the mines, wanting to feel the gravel between her fingers, the salt beneath her bare foot.

“Welcome to the Salt Mines of Endovier,” the woman said with a laugh.

*****

Seraphine lost track of time in the darkness surrounding her. The feel of her fire, red, bright, and alive seemed like a lifetime ago. Sweet kisses shared between her and the Prince of Night almost like a dream.

Dusk through dawn she mined. There was no stopping, no thinking other than her happiness to fill up her cart.

The bread, the water, everything she ate was drugged.

Two days have passed since she barely ate anything. More and more, the haziness clouding her thoughts focused. Men and women watched her closely, talking in huddles, never taking their eyes off of her. Her name would be whispered amongst the mines, amongst the workers. Something was coming, and Seraphine could not afford to wait as to what that something was. 

She was waiting for her moment, her opportunity to escape, though the lack of food made her already weak body feel like lead. She would crave every meal they threw in her cell.

She would stop herself from eating it.

*****

Tonight would be her escape. Four days have passed. She only drank the drugged liquid when she was desperate, leaving her powers nearly empty. She was weak, but she had to make her escape now.

Seraphine had been busy working at making a pick from the shards of salt to use for her escape. She wanted to save the small amount of fire she had left in her. She wanted to leave with a bang.

Her prison cell was in a large wooden building, housing several other women. She waited until the Overseer brought her daily ration of drugged food. The sound of footsteps filled the hollow building.

Seraphine clutched the pike in her hands.

“Eat,” the Overseer shouted, sliding a dirty plate through a gap on the bottom of the cell.

Without another moment of thought, Seraphine reached for the Overseer through the bars. The Overseer struggled, her grunts echoing around them. She was easily overpowered. Seraphine only had one chance as her fingers slipped from the Overseer’s clothes.

Her pike made of salt slammed deep into the Overseer’s left eye.

She grabbed the key around the Overseer’s neck, fumbled with the small, delicate thing and unlocked her cell and shackles.

She made a run for it.

_ Freedom, home, Kastiel. _

Seraphine chanted those words over and over, not daring to make eye contact with the other slaves in each cell she passed until she reached the end of the building.

It was unlocked.

Seraphine turned the door.

Keeping close to the shadows, she ran through the mine shafts towards the exit passage. She encountered the first Overseer to cross her path.

Seraphine didn’t hesitate.

The Overseer’s surprise was his first mistake.

_ Freedom, home, Kastiel. _

She ducked down low, putting a spring in her step, and sliced the Overseer’s throat.

Blood sprayed in her face, in her eyes, in her mouth.

Seraphine continued.

In the near distance, she saw the large, shining building surrounded by a courtyard lined with lanterns. The building housed the majority of Officials and Overseers at Endovier. They were the ones that would huddle close together, whispering as they watched her work and work. A few stood by the entrance, chatting.

She just had to pass them before she could go home.

Seraphine felt the fire in her hands ignite, the feeling of it like a familiar warm hand holding her own. She let that familiarity give her strength and continued on. She made it as close to the building as possible before using up that last little drop of powers she had saved for herself.

She let it free from her hands.

The enormous form of fire taking shape had arms and legs. It had wings and a tail. With a mind of its own, the fire took the form of a giant monster that wreaked havoc in its wake.

Chaos erupted.

Wagons and buildings and pickaxes engulfed in flames. The Overseer’s scrambled away screaming, rolling on the ground to put out the fire on their clothes, on their bodies.

Seraphine didn’t know how long her fire giant would last. She just ran and ran and ran.

_ Freedom, home, Kastiel. _

She reached the passage through the wall.

Dodged the arrows shooting her way.

Made it out into the star covered night.

Seraphine couldn’t believe she’d made it. She ran towards the trees in the distance. She was willing to brave it through Oakwald Forest, knowing just how close Terrasen is from here. Her family would sense her, surely. They would come for her now and destroy this place.

She pumped her legs harder, distancing herself from the loud screaming behind.

_ Freedom, home, Kastiel. _

Seraphine felt the first pang of fear at the sound of hooves behind her.

Then a loud whip echoed in the night, causing her to fall face-first into the dirt. No fire giant could save her this time.

A lasso wrapped around her legs like a snake. She quickly tried to grab the rope, to rip it away from her, though she was not quick enough. The pull of the rope dragged Seraphine on the graveled ground.

The Overseer started to gallop back towards the Salt Mines with Seraphine tied to a rope behind him.

Seraphine couldn’t see straight, couldn’t see anything at all, as the ground tore her skin, her face and her tunic—Kastiel’s tunic—now riding up to her chest. All she could do was clench her teeth to stop from screaming, her hands clawing at the ground to find something to hold onto.

The fire inside the gates had already been controlled, the Overseer’s containing the slaves who were running amuck.

Seraphine struggled as Overseers crowded her. She had no drop of fire left from the drugs in her system. Yet the Overseers shackled her feet with iron chains. They dragged her to a bloody post in a circular clearing. And there, waiting for her was the busty, silver-eyed woman with her left eye now mangled. The Overseer gave her a bloody grin as she gripped a shining dark whip in her bloody hands.

Seraphine couldn’t struggle free. Her hands were shackled to the post. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as another Overseer, the red eyed man, lifted her tunic up to reveal her exposed back.

“Won’t do anything to kill the Princess, of course,” the Overseer whispered in her ear. “We wouldn’t want the goods to be too damaged before the trade.”

The snap of the whip broke Seraphine to pieces. The pain exploding in her back, tearing the flesh, hitting her core.

Then another, and another.

And Seraphine couldn’t remember, through the haze of pain and sweat and fear, the chant that was about to form in her lips.


	2. Chapter 2

“Bring her back,” Kastiel had shouted, clawing at the floorboards in the House of Mist. “Bring her back!”

“She’s gone, Kastiel,” Amren said, pulling him to his feet.

Kastiel shook his head. “How do you know? How do you know where she went, if she’s alright, if she’s made it? How do you know?”

Amren’s mouth was about to open, about to make a sound, before Kastiel was yanked from his dream.

He was sweaty, despite the open windows that let the cool breeze of the night in. He wished the dream hadn’t ended so abruptly, so he could hear Amren’s steady voice, explaining to him everything so vividly, so clearly, as if to say  _ how could you ever doubt me, Kastiel? _

Now, he lay awake in the bed he’d shared with Seraphine.

It was cold and empty—just as he was.

Though he couldn’t shake that feeling, that undeniable dread at the thought of Seraphine gone from him. Somewhere he couldn’t go.

_ I came alive when I met you  _ she had said to him.

Yet she still left.

And he didn’t come with her.

Now his dreams are all about her.

Shadows rippled in the corner of his eyes. The movement was minute. Anyone who wouldn’t have known what to look for could have easily mistaken it for nothing. Though Kastiel knew better.

“Father asked you to spy on me again?” he asked into the shadows.

“Not quite,” Azriel said, appearing at the foot of his bed. “I’m just here to check on you.”

Kastiel turned those words over and over in his head, the silence stretching on between them. “Do you think I did the right thing? In letting her go?”

Azriel said nothing, but his eyes told him everything. “Illyrians are taught to act on instincts. To trust our gut. You did what you thought was right for you at the time, Kastiel.”

His uncle didn’t exactly answer his question. Though it clarified what was already on his mind—he shouldn’t have let Seraphine’s fingers slip from his hands. He shouldn’t have let her go through the portal alone, without him, without telling her how he felt.

Letting Seraphine go was the biggest mistake of his life.

“I’m going to find her again. I’m going to tell her.”

He met his uncle’s eyes and shifted to the side of the bed to make room.

Azriel laid down next to him and together, they comforted each other in their silence.

*****

“You might have to take that dog away from Cassian,” Mor had greeted him the following morning. “He’s starting to look like him.”

Nesta snorted, her face hidden behind a book.

Kastiel ignored them both.

He went straight to Amren and dropped a shining, blood red ruby on the table. Cups and saucers rattled at the impact.

“You don’t need to bribe me, Kastiel.”

The argument on Kastiel’s lips melted into a puddle on the floor.

“I understand how it feels,” she says, grabbing a hold of his jaw, her long nails digging into his skin and staring at him straight in the eyes, “to be away from the person you love.” Kastiel didn’t flinch at the otherworldly sight of Amren’s silver eyes—eyes that swirl like smoke under glass. She let go of him. “And you’re lucky that I convinced your father to let you go because the portal to Seraphine’s world is still open.”

Kastiel turned to look at his mother and father, still in the clutches of her otherworldly aunt, who gave him a nod and encouraging smile.

“I know I can’t stop you Kastiel,” his father said to him. “When you are determined, you are more powerful than you think. And I know that you are ready to face the next part of your life—we all do.”

Kastiel looked around at his family. They all wore the same expression—kindness, and  _ understanding _ .

Until Kastiel’s eyes landed on his uncle’s hazel eyes.

Shadows already danced around Azriel, his posture stiff, as if ready for battle.

And Kastiel knew, without a doubt, that the unspoken words between them were more than silence.

It was a bargain.

Kastiel welcomed the burning sensation on his upper left shoulder. In return, Azriel’s lips tilted up in the corner of his mouth.

Rhysand, sensing the exchange between them, stood. Amren and Nesta placed their books down, whilst Cassian and Mor twisted their bodies around to watch Rhysand. Elain gripped Feyre’s hand as they watched together the sight of the heir of the Night Court rise.

“You protect him with your life, shadowsinger,” Rhysand said to Azriel. “I don’t care who you have to kill to protect him.”

Azriel gave a steady nod, “I swear it, High Lord.”

Cassian, who was now petting Fen aggressively, muttered an unintelligent response, which sounded a lot like, “you’re taking my dog away” and “why couldn’t I come” to Kastiel.

Rhysand ignored Cassian. Instead, he sauntered over to his son, gripping Kastiel’s face in his hands.

“And if you ever get in trouble, Kastiel. You do not fear. You do not falter. You do not yield.” Rhysand glanced at Feyre, before turning back around to put his arms around Kastiel. “We will always be here for you.”

Kastiel embraced his father back. And in the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw his mother’s eyes lined in silver.

*****

Azriel tightened the straps along Kastiel’s chest.

Kastiel hadn’t let his uncle do this since he was small since Azriel had trained him how to fly, but he could sense that Azriel was on edge too—just as his whole family was.

Despite their worry, Kastiel knew that they trusted him.

He had a plan, rough as it was, to tell the woman he loves what she is to him, to save her friends, her family any way he could, and the rest—staying in Velaris or Terrasen—would be decided later.

The Prince of the Night would follow his silver moon wherever she went.

That thought was clear, heavy, solid, in Kastiel’s mind as he welcomed the pull of the portal with Azriel and Fen.

  
  
  


*****

Solid, iron bars encased them all.

The sun was high, the smell of rot and hay thick in the air.

Azriel kicked the bars on his side, breaking it wide open. “Stay here,” he commanded, before turning into shadow.

But Kastiel didn’t even notice.

He was taken by surprise at the tight space of the wooden wagon, at the same marking on the wooden floorboards his mother and Amren had made at the House of Mist, and the splatters of blood—it was everywhere.

“Something is wrong,” he whispered. “Why would the portal lead us here?”

Fen whined beside him, as if in agreement.

Kastiel stepped off the broken down wagon, glancing around at his surroundings. This new world he now was felt strangely familiar to him. He remembered the pine and the mountains that made up Terrasen, the stars that align to guide him to her, but daylight blocked them from view.

Endless trees and vegetation surrounded Kastiel on all sides. They swayed in the wind, like living creatures, waiting for him to make the first move.

His heart hammered against his chest.

Where was she? Where was she? Where was she?

Azriel appeared in front of Kastiel.

“I found something,” his uncle said.

*****

“Which way is Terrasen from here,” Azriel asked the man tending to a group of horses at a nearby outpost.

The horse tender halted in his steps, assessing Azriel and Kastiel’s pointy ears before his expression fell on Fen in disbelief, “is that a wolf next to you?”

Kastiel started to feel restless. He wanted to shout at this man that she was missing, that something is wrong, and if anyone could help them in this new world, it would be him. Azriel placed a gentle hand on Kastiel’s shoulder. “Terrasen. Which way is it?” Azriel asked again.

“What’s your business with Terrasen? Are you a traveler?”

“We’re messengers,” Kastiel interjected, noticing for the first time, the horse tender’s swollen face. A fearsome bruise already covered his eye down to his cheek. “I have a message for Terrasen.”

The horse tender shifted his gaze to Azriel’s lethal form and sharp sword, before falling onto Kastiel’s leathers and fine cloak. “Where is your horse, messenger?”

“I have no need for it.”

He raised his eyebrows approvingly, sensing perhaps, Kastiel’s powers. “Then I too have a message for the people of Terrasen.” He stroked his bruised eye, wincing at the pain. “A prisoner, on her way to Endovier gave me a message.”

Kastiel’s heart stopped short.

“Though I lost it in a scuffle with the barbaric Overseers, I still remember it.”

“What was it?”

“A beautiful embroidery—a mountain, with three stars on top. I suppose it was too pretty for a slave girl to have. Maybe she had stolen it from the Princess of Terrasen, and wanted to give it back as an apology.” His wrinkled eyes tilted down in concern, “though it would be too late now for the poor slave. No one survives the Salt Mines of Endovier for long.”


	3. Chapter 3

Kastiel didn’t stop until he laid eyes on the walls of Endovier.

_Slave, salt mine, his fire bringer._

He shook at the thought of her being in any kind of danger. But Kastiel had to have faith that his equal would survive anything. He prayed to the Mother that she would be fine because if she wasn’t if she was hurt in any way if she was in pain from anything, he would destroy them all.

“Kastiel,” his uncle warns him, pulling him back into the cover of the trees. “Let me do this.”

Kastiel ignored his uncle, didn’t even concern himself with the thought that a life has never been crushed in his hands. A killing calm came over him. He would do anything for his mate, kill anyone, ruin anyone, wreck himself if he had to to get her back.

“Stand down shadowsinger,” Kastiel said with utter, clear dominance—the spitting image of the High Lord of the Night Court. “Let me get my mate back alone.”

*****

_You do not fear. You do not falter. You do not yield._

Kastiel sliced the throat of the first Overseer he saw.

He felt no remorse, no regret for the first life he ended with his own hands.

Three more Overseers surrounded him.

He twisted low and sliced their necks in a neat arc of his arm.

There was only one thing Kastiel knew—he was going to kill everyone here to save her.

_You go in, you get Seraphine, and you come out again._

It was as if his father knew what was to happen to him.

Kastiel wiped the minds of the archers in the distance.

With his hand out, he used his powers to drown the guards running towards him from the inside out.

He winnowed from corner to corner, from behind each Official and Overseer he saw, and sliced the knife through their necks.

He was covered in red.

Kastiel listened for his mate’s voice in amongst the fight. He looked out for her face, her glistening silver hair in the sea of others. Though it didn’t help that the slaves here moved like zombies. They were hollowed eyed, empty, from the inside out. Kastiel was in a pure panic at the thought of her turquoise eyes—lined with the ring of gold—dull from her time here.

With newfound rage, Kastiel didn’t stop wreaking havoc, until every Official and Overseer lay dead in their own puddle of blood. The slaves of Endovier ran in all directions, whilst others decided to stay, decided that they wanted to keep mining despite the chaos.

Kastiel sensed that there was something strange with this place—it felt odd—wrong.

The tug of the bond led Kastiel to a small wooden building in the corner of the salt mines. He prowled through the hallway, staring at each slave in their cell.

Until he laid eyes to a figure huddled on the ground.

_His phoenix, his fire bringer, his mate._

Crumpled on the floor, her back to him, her hair matted, almost black with dirt and grime.

Kastiel ripped the door open from its hinges.

Still, his mate didn’t move.

He dropped down on his knees, nearly falling apart at the sight of his Night Court tunic still on her.

It was in tatters, just as his heart was.

“Seraphine?” he asked, before picking her fragile body up and winnowing into the star covered night.

*****

“Kastiel?” Seraphine answered, stirring in his arms. “You came back for me.”

Kastiel gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, “the night will always follow his moon.”

“ _Your_ moon?”

“Yes—my moon of fire,” Kastiel whispers into her ear, before placing her down on a bed of grass, under a canopy of leaves and stars. “You’re mine.”

*****

Seraphine's eyes fluttered open.

The trees above her swayed in the wind, the sun already set high in the sky.

She was pleasantly warm, laying on her side wrapped in a thick midnight blue cloak, its scent so comforting, so familiar that it almost felt like a dream.

But it wasn’t a dream.

Seraphine was out of the mines, she was safe, she was free.

She twisted, running her fingers between Fen’s thick fur.

Kastiel came back for her. He had saved her.

Seraphine sat up at the sound of movement near her.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

The fae in front of her didn’t look familiar. He was tall, crowned with dark hair and dark skin. He seemed a little surprised at her voice, the expression sitting unusually on his beautiful, elegant face.

“I’m Azriel,” he says, dropping a log of wood on top of a stack near his feet. “Kastiel’s uncle.”

Seraphine studied Azriel. 

He wore black leathers, with blue jewels adorning different parts of his body. Nothing about him seemed even remotely similar to what Kastiel looked like. Except for the wings. Though Azriel’s was noticeably wider and grander in size.

“Azriel?” she asked slowly, dragging out all the syllables of his name, “And… Kastiel?”

Seraphine was awarded with a breathtaking smile from Azriel, and she sensed, in a way she only could, how rare this smile was.

“I like to say that he was named after me,” he said thoughtfully, arranging the logs on the ground to form a makeshift campfire. “Though Cassian would say otherwise.”

Seraphine looked at him thoughtfully, before looking around at her surroundings.

“He’s by the stream,” Azriel points out. “He’s been worried about you, and he’ll be glad you’re awake.”

“Thank you,” she replies.

“Seraphine,” he says before she could leave, “are you alright?”

She meets his hazel eyes. “I’m fine.”

Azriel gives her a small nod in reply, as if he knew, exactly how she was feeling—that she bore no visible scars, but the hurt ran deeper than skin and bones. “Could you please?” he asks, gesturing to the unlit campfire.

Seraphine ignited it with a brush of her hand.

*****

Kastiel watched as the dried blood dissipated along with the stream, washing away the events of the night before.

He stayed up until the sun had risen, stayed up until dawn broke, to watch Seraphine sleep soundly beside him, to make sure that she was real, she was alright, that she wouldn’t leave him again. There were no signs of harm on her body, though he wished he could wash away her time in Endovier too.

The guilt was slowly drowning him from the inside out.

He should have been there for her, he should have protected her, he shouldn’t have let her leave his side.

*****

Seraphine stood in the cover of trees.

Kastiel was waist high in the stream, his dark hair glistening in the water, and his tanned body—strong and chiseled—out in all its glory. It would be a lie, she admitted, to say her body didn’t yearn for him, for his touch, for his kiss.

But for the first time, Seraphine doubted herself.

She was tired of constantly having to be saved, again, and again. And more than anything, she hated herself, for putting Kastiel in any kind of danger.

She wanted to be strong. She wanted to be Kastiel’s equal, to be worthy of his love for her.

The night in her room at the House of Mist had seemed like a lifetime ago.

How would Kastiel accept her now, after everything that has happened since? What would he think, knowing that she had given up, had lost her fight at Endovier?

Seraphine wrapped the cloak tightly around herself, hiding her fears and doubts, and body away from view, and turned to walk back to camp.

“Care to join me?”

Seraphine jumped at the sight of Kastiel, completely nude, in front of her. He had a playful smile on his lips, yet it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t tell me,” he continues, without an ounce of care in the world, “that you were going to leave without saying anything?”

She keeps a steady gaze on his face, fighting the urge to look anywhere lower than his shoulders. “You were busy—deep in thought—” she stutters. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Kastiel shrugs cooly. “I was thinking about you actually, and now here you are.”

“You’re a pain,” she replies, before instantly regretting it. Kastiel flinched at the word, his playful mask slightly slipping at the corners.

He reached towards her.

Seraphine stepped away from his touch.

“Please,” she whispers. “I’m fine. Put some clothes on, Kastiel.” Her face heated up at the thought of his whole body naked in front of her. “I’ll meet you back at camp.”

*****

Kastiel reached the camp, with a spear of caught fish in hand. He had taken his time to fish, before finding the courage to return.

Azriel and Seraphine sat across from each other, staring at the fire crackling beside their feet. He wished he didn’t feel so territorial at the sight of them together.

Azriel looked up as he stuck the spear into the open flame.

“We should reach Terrasen by morning,” he says to no one in particular. “Flying might be too dangerous, but Azriel and I can winnow you until we get you home.”

Seraphine nodded.

“The quicker we get there, the better.”

“I’m fine, Kastiel. We need my court to handle the situation at Endovier. That’s the reason why we need to hurry.”

Kastiel shook his head. “I can’t help it, Seraphine, that I want you to be more than fine.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“I want to because I care about you.”

Seraphine stood from her spot by the fire. “I’m going to wash by the stream,” she says before walking away from him.

Kastiel was about to follow behind her when Azriel holds him back.

“Give her time, Kastiel.”

Kastiel lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“First, it was between Rhys and Feyre, then it was Cassian and Nesta, and now this,” Azriel mumbles under his breath. “Why does the Cauldron always put me in the middle of angsty mates?”

*****

Seraphine avoided Kastiel’s advances by choosing to winnow with Azriel, leaving Kastiel to winnow with Fen.

Whenever they would stop to rest, she would find a secluded space for herself, taking Fen with her. Seraphine would find leaves and twigs and flowers, to create an intricate piece of art on a smooth rock. The art she was making now was a simple piece, which outlined the lines of Kastiel’s face—the expression, exactly as he had looked when Seraphine caught him staring at her from the corner of her eyes. It was also a gift, in some sort of way, to the Little Folk of Oakwald Forest, who gave her that little bit of hope from the moonflower.

Seraphine wasn’t sure how she would handle Kastiel. It was getting harder, she admitted, to stay away from his presence. She knew by his expression, how much it pained him to see her winnow with Azriel instead of him.

When night fell, Seraphine helped Azriel start a fire. They sat around in a circle and ate in heavy silence before Azriel got started on putting up the tents he had brought with him. There were two, he announced, and he was to share one with Kastiel, whilst Seraphine would have her own. When both she and Kastiel didn’t reply, Azriel retreated into his tent.

Kastiel broke the silence, “You’re to see your family tomorrow.”

Seraphine nodded, scratching Fen’s ear beside her.

“I must admit,” he says, “that I’m not ready to leave.”

When Seraphine said nothing, Kastiel stood slowly and kneeled in front of her. The sight of him, the strong, powerful Heir of the Night Court, at her feet, undid Seraphine.

“I will stay close to you if you want me to stay close to you,” he says, cupping her face in his hands. “And I will be waiting, Seraphine, for as long as I have to until you are ready to talk to me.” He rubbed his thumb along her cheek, “But I won’t leave you. Not again.”

With a hopeful smile, Kastiel petted Fen, before he too, retreated into his tent.

After Kastiel left, Seraphine didn’t know how long she sat in front of the fire. She looked at her tent anxiously.

Seraphine didn’t want to be enclosed by its walls.

Instead, she lay on her side under the cover of the stars, with her wolf pressed up against her. Seraphine was reminded of a hundred nights like this when she was traveling with her wolf and wyvern as her only companions.

She missed her wyvern.

Above her, the stars which point to Terassen were closer than ever.

She dreaded the thought of seeing her mother. She knew her mother’s past with Endovier, and that fact alone scared her more than anything.

Seraphine tensed at the sound of familiar footsteps headed her way.

Kastiel laid down beside Seraphine, though her back was to him.

“I can’t seem to keep away from you,” he said by greeting.

Seraphine said nothing as she kept her back to him.

“Any reason why you’re not in the comfort of your tent?” he asks her.

“It makes me feel trapped,” she answers him boldly.

Kastiel’s breathing stuttered. “I’m sorry, Seraphine. I hadn’t considered you—”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but—“

“It’s not Kastiel. It will never be.”

Kastiel’s laugh behind her was music to her ears. She hadn’t realised how alive it made her feel—to hear his genuine laugh.

“I missed you finishing my sentences,” he whispers.

“Kastiel,” Seraphine began, her heart finally, finally opening up like a moonflower, “I am only forever grateful that you saved me, that I am alive—yet again—because of you. But I hate myself, for constantly having to be saved, for putting you in danger, for not being sorry that you are here, instead of at home with your family.”

Seraphine listened to his breathing behind her, his erratic heartbeat matching hers.

“Why won’t you turn to look at me?”

Before Kastiel could reach Seraphine’s shoulder, she jumped on her feet.

Kastiel was quicker.

The brush of his hand down her back forced a loud, awful scream out of Seraphine’s mouth.

Her voice carried on and on into the never-ending trees of Oakwald forest.

*****

Kastiel’s eyes went wide at the sight of Seraphine falling on her hands and knees. She was retching at the pain.

Before she fell, Kastiel’s hand snatched the loose corner of Seraphine’s cloak at the shoulder.

That was when Kastiel saw it.

The red slash that snaked down Seraphine’s shoulder blade—the secret Seraphine had hidden within her.

She jerked away from his touch, tearing the cloth, seeing more than enough of the pain she endured at Endovier.

“Kastiel!” Azriel warned.

Kastiel ignored him. He saw more, he saw how the lashes sliced her skin and went out of his sight under her cloak.

Kastiel knew it was all over her back.

He helped Seraphine up on her feet, brushing her hair away from her sweaty face. He searched her eyes, searched for the truth she hid so well.

Kastiel was tempted, so tempted in his pain and fury, at reading Seraphine’s thought.

“I asked you,” his voice didn’t sound like his own. “I asked if you were hurt.”

“I said I was fine.”

Kastiel didn’t believe her.

His fire bringer, his phoenix, his mate.

“How could this happen to you? How could you not tell me?” He held her by the upper arms through her cloak. Though there was no flesh there. His hands met bone. He was not himself.

This was not his world.

There was no version of his world where this could be real.

“Kastiel,” his uncle warns. “Control yourself.”

Seraphine tugged free of his grip.

Kastiel’s throat went tight.

“You should have told me,” he says, before a loud inhuman cry echoed above them.

Thirteen dragons encircled them, before sweeping down closer to the ground.

A woman—who was not a woman—with golden hair, aimed an arrow at them, where it hit home into Azriel’s chest.


	4. Chapter 4

“ASTERIN STOP,” Seraphine yelled.

No one listened.

Asterin jumped from her wyvern, her dark golden hair glistening in the moonlight. The rest of the Thirteen encircled them from above, armed with bows and arrows that were aimed towards Kastiel.

“Asterin stop,” Seraphine tried again.

But the challenge in Azriel’s eyes made Asterin livid.

“He’s mine,” she declared to no one in particular—yet to everyone all at once.

Azriel parried her blow with his own sword.

The clang of metal on metal was loud—deafening—ringing all around them and out into Oakwald Forest.

Seraphine and Kastiel watched on as Asterin met his sword again, her attacks random and precise all at once. It was almost beautiful, the way they calculated each other’s advances. Asterin always the first to strike, and Azriel, meeting her every blow. He never raised his sword to maim—only to defend.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, around his open wound where the tip of Asterin’s arrow still made home in his chest.

You could tell that this aggravated Asterin, the way he was the one who was injured, disadvantaged, wounded, yet he was playing with her, toying with the Wing Leader of the Thirteen.

Asterin threw her sword to the ground.

Azriel, raised his eyebrows in reply, as if to say _this is how we’re fighting now?_

She ran towards him, her iron claws coming up to his face, the iron tips glinting in the moonlight. Asterin swiped her iron claws towards Azriel’s face. He flared his wings behind him, dodging her attacks.

Asterin let out a cry of frustration.

She tried again—her right hand coming towards his face, whilst her left hand grabbed his upper arm. A more calculated attack—an attack only a Wing Leader would dare.

Azriel was caught in surprise as her iron teeth bit into his skin. His grunt of pain cost him.

She twisted her body, coming down low to kick Azriel’s legs from under him.

But he anticipated her move.

In fact, he wanted it to happen.

Azriel exploded into mist and shadows, before appearing behind Asterin.

His arm encircled around her, his breathing heavy.

Azriel’s sword met the soft part of her neck.

“That was different,” he whispered into her ear.

And when they met eyes, when Asterin saw his shadows, was surrounded by it, she smiled, revealing her iron teeth, stained with Azriel’s blood.

*****

Kastiel watched as the iron teeth witch patched Azriel’s chest wound. Azriel was bare from the waist up, showing his warrior’s body, his tattoos, his scars. But Asterin’s iron nailed hands were surprisingly gentle, never wavering at the sight of it all, even the shadows enclosing around her. Kastiel was not used to it—nor would he ever be—to watch his uncle get intimately close with a woman.

Let alone a witch.

The way the two locked eyes made Kastiel uncomfortable, almost as if he was peering into closed doors.

He looked away.

Turquoise eyes lined with a ring of gold met his own.

Seraphine was sprawled on the ground, her head lying on top of her wyvern’s head, whilst her hand stroked Fen’s fur beside her.

She shifted, snuggling into his midnight blue cloak.

Their eyes held, yet they both didn’t speak.

Kastiel made his way to her.

“I wouldn’t get too close to Enox,” she said in greeting.

They hadn’t talked since the witches had arrived.

“Seraphine,” he said, feigning innocence, “you haven’t even introduced me to your dragon.”

“Wyvern.”

Kastiel shrugged.

“No Kastiel,” Seraphine said with total seriousness. “The Thirteen will skin you alive if they hear you call their wyverns dragons again.”

Kastiel looked around at the witches, who were purposely distracting themselves with other things that didn’t involve watching him.

He reached towards Enox’s snout, yet he waited for the wyvern to allow him to pet him.

The wyvern reached over and sniffed his wings instead.

They were similar in texture to Enox’s skin.

Kastiel unfolded his wings, allowing the wyvern to see the full extent of them. He couldn’t help but smile as Enox sat up and did the same.

Even though the wyvern’s wings were magical and jawbreaking in size, Kastiel said playfully, “mine’s better.”

Enox snorted in reply.

“He likes you,” Seraphine said to him.

A blanket of silence fell between them before Kastiel placed a gentle hand on top of Seraphine’s.

“I need to know,” Kastiel pleaded. “No more secrets, Seraphine.”

“Not here then,” she said before she mounted Enox.

Seraphine launched herself into the night.

Kastiel didn’t hesitate to follow his moon.

*****

Seraphine twisted and twirled in the air, steering Enox up and up and up towards the stars. When they reached the highest point in the sky, Seraphine let out an excited squeal as her and her wyvern free-fell together.

She caught Enox’s reigns to steady herself back on his saddle. 

“What’s with you and your knack for falling?” Kastiel asks playfully.

“I only do it when I know I’m going to be caught.”

Kastiel flew closer towards her, “so you knew I would catch you that day in Prythian?”

“No,” she says with a smile. “But I hoped.”

Seraphine leads Enox high up into the night again. This time, Kastiel came with them.

“I’ve been traveling,” she says to him, somewhere up high in the sky, “for nearly a century. This part, you knew—I fell from the portal, where you found me, where you bargained for the Suriel to heal me. Though the Suriel did more than heal me.”

Kastiel’s lips turn up at the corners, “We both know what happened after that—in your rooms in the House of Mist.”

“I thought you may have needed to be reminded.”

“Seraphine,” he says, “there is not a moment in my life since then when I don’t think of how you moaned into my ears as I slid inside you.”

Her cheeks heat up from the memory.

Though it was quickly gone, just as that magical night, when Kastiel asked, “how did you end up in Endovier?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It was a trap, though whether it was the Overseers who planted it there, or someone else, I don’t know.”

Kastiel flew closer towards her, where he wrapped her face in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “for not telling you what happened at Endovier. For the secrets I’ve kept because I was a fool, Kastiel. It was naive of me to think I was strong enough, to think I could do it myself, survive this myself.”

“All of the secrets and lies,” Kastiel says, “let it go, Seraphine.”

This time, when Seraphine let go of Enox to fly down, Kastiel tucked his wings in and did the same.

His outstretched arm reached for Seraphine.

She let him hold her as they plummeted down together.

“From now on,” he says into her ears, her cheek, her lips, “we’ll go through this together.”

Kastiel’s lips found hers in the night, as they free-fell down to reality. It was familiar, tender, sweet and passionate at the same time. Seraphine breath in the smell of him, as she ran her hands through his hair. She deepened the kiss, causing Kastiel to moan.

“I knew,” he said between kisses, “the moment I saw you fall down from the black pit in the sky.”

“Knew what?” she asked.

“That you were my mate.”

*****

Kastiel laid down onto the grassy fields of Oakwald Forest, bringing Seraphine down beside him. They both lay on their sides, staring at each other, where no gaps showed between their bodies. Her eyes were wild with want—and her hair was like a living creature. It was hard for Kastiel to stop himself from responding to her need for him. He felt his desire coat his tongue—his body—he wanted to taste her too.

“I want to show you something,” he said, his voice thick. “Can I?”

Seraphine nodded.

Kastiel’s power made its way into Seraphine’s fiery mind, where he showed her a memory, from the night he had saved her in Endovier.

*****

It was dark, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. Though Seraphine could clearly make out herself in Kastiel’s arms. Dirt and blood covered her, yet the memory herd no feelings of disgust—only relief, and adoration.

“Kastiel?” she watched herself ask, stirring in his arms. “You came back for me.”

Kastiel gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, the feeling strangely lingering in the present, “the night will always follow his moon.”

“ _Your_ moon?”

“Yes—my moon of fire,” Kastiel whispers into her ear, before placing her down on a bed of grass, under a canopy of leaves and stars. “You’re mine.”

*****

Kastiel slowly pulls himself back from her mind, only to find Seraphine watching him, her hand tracing the contours of his stomach.

Her hands roam his body, his breathing now erratic at her every touch.

She lifts herself up and straddles him on the soft grass.

The sight of her on top of him was nothing like he’s ever seen before.

Seraphine grabbed the hem of his shirt, and he sat up as she lifted it over his head. Their lips found each other again.

This time, their kisses were deeper—hungry. He sucked on her lower lip and made his way down to her neck until he saw the red marking of her lashes, where it snaked around her collarbone.

Seraphine traced the new tattoo on his shoulder, from the bargain with Azriel, until her hands traveled down, down, down below his belly button.

Kastiel held his breath as Seraphine moved her hips, rubbing the sensitive part of him, causing him to bite his tongue. She took her cloak off at the same time he found his trousers beside his feet.

*****

“You two look rejuvenated,” Asterin said in greeting the following morning when Seraphine and Kastiel made their way back to camp. “Why do I get the feeling you’re delaying your arrival home, Princess?”

“Aelin Glathynius-Whitethorn,” she answered.

The witches all murmured their agreement.

Kastiel lifted her up onto Enox, even though he knew perfectly well that she was more than capable.

He kisses her temple.

“I for one, can’t wait to meet your family.”

The witches cackle in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cry every time I read this chapter. I love the Thirteen. I LOVE Asterin.


	5. Chapter 5

He was in trouble.

Azriel knew the moment he laid eyes on the blonde-haired witch with the iron teeth and nails.

She was miles ahead of everyone, twisting and turning in the air as the horizon spread opened up to pink and yellow and orange hues.

Yellow like her hair glistening in the moonlight—swaying in the wind as she clawed for his throat.

He despised it—her stubbornness.

Her raw, unfiltered and opinionated words.

Despised her, not from the wound she gave him, but for this wild, unusual thing that’s filled his heart.

*****

With the Anascaul Mountains behind them, Seraphine steered Enox towards the Staghorns, towards Orynth, towards her home. Despite not having been home for nearly a century, Enox flew without needing directions. He flew behind the Thirteen’s formation, though Seraphine could sense, that her wyvern was feeling out of place with the rest of the witches and their wyverns. Seraphine felt the same.

Kastiel flew beside them, his wings coasting by the oncoming morning breeze.

The Staghorn Mountains came into view, along with the outskirts of Oakwald forest, then finally, the roughly circular city of the Galathynius residence loomed.

People were already milling around on the cobblestoned streets, basking in the dewy early morning sun, oblivious to the wyverns and Fat flying above them.

The towering, stone castle walls of Orynth, Terrasen’s capital, sat upon the highest point in the city, with half of its structure embedded into the Staghorn mountains. Its façade was circular in shape, with greenery covering it’s silver stoned walls.

Asterin landed in front of the massive gates of the castle, where vines and ivy twisted around the iron bars like a snake.

Asterin squared her shoulders.

“It’s showtime.”

*****

Kastiel stood behind the witches, as Asterin led Seraphine from the front. Despite the mountains neighbouring the castle in the distance, there were no other similarities between Valaris and Orynth.

If Valaris was the City of Starlight, Orynth was the City of Sunshine.

The castle belonged between the Dawn Court and the Day Court. It was a stunning city—a mountainside on one side and the never-ending expanse of green in the other.

Seraphine glanced behind her.

At home at last—she was even more beautiful—in the backdrop of Orynth.

He gave her an encouraging nod.

They slip inside the castle, it’s foyer opening up into a grand marble stoned room. Directly in front of them was a large stairwell breaking off into the east and west wings of the caste. A painting of what could only be Seraphine’s parents, and their family surrounding them hung on the wall beside a dirty looking plant pot.

Fen’s paws clicked against the marble floors.

He sniffed the wilted flowers in the vase.

Kastiel reached for the pommel of his sword.

“Mot—” Seraphine was about to shout, before Azriel winnowed behind her, covering her mouth with his hand, whispering something in her ears.

Kastiel unsheathed his sword.

The Thirteen spread in all directions.

“Stay here,” Azriel ordered before he vanished into shadows.

Seraphine held orange flames in her hands. “I don’t understand,” she whispered to him.

Kastiel guarded her back as she took in her surroundings. No, he thought, it was not her home anymore—it was a stranger’s home.

Somehow, between their arrival until now, it was clear that no one had been here for a while.

Seraphine’s head whipped towards Kastiel.

Her thoughts seemed to slip into his—through their mating bond.

He gripped her under the waist, the legs, and flew towards the city.

*****

Seraphine ran through the streets of Orynth, her hand trailing against the stoned walls of the city. On her right stood her favourite shop, a bakery renowned for the most delicious chocolate cake. Her mother would drag her here during late nights, where the baker would open the store, just for them. They would all eat together, sometimes bringing Aedion with them.

Now it stood unoccupied—its doors open wide just like her own home—an empty vessel.

Seraphine kept going.

To her left was the shop to Orynth’s famous smith. He was tall, dark and incredibly handsome, even more so after a bad accident, which left a scar across his right eye. His wife was a gentle woman, who was expecting a baby during the time Seraphine left.

That was almost a century ago.

Though the citizens of Orynth were Fae and most—if not all—have some sort of powers.

“Where are they?” Her voice seemed to carry all around her, to her empty favourite shops, the empty streets, the empty houses. “But we saw them, the people of Orynth, here before our eyes.”

“I know what it was—a glamour.”

“A wha—”

Kastiel tackled Seraphine to the ground.

He softened the fall, taking all her weight under his wings.

She quickly sat up, scrambling on her hands and feet at the oncoming creature screeching towards them.

She’d never seen anything like it before.

The creature was black, wild eyed and sharped teeth and claws.

Everything about it was wrong—it’s movement animalistic.

Seraphine unleashed a ball of fire towards the creature.

It screeched again, dodging incredibly fast towards the side.

“Kastiel?” Seraphine asked, not taking her eyes off the creature who in turn, was watching her.

“I’m kind of busy over here.”

Seraphine dared to quickly look behind her.

Three more terrifyingly dark creatures prowled in front of Kastiel.

“I’ll take this one, and you take the three,” she said.

Kastiel laughed in reply, his battle cry loud and clear as he swiped his sword across the strange creature’s bodies.

Seraphine focused on the thing in front of her.

It scuttled on its hands and knees, lunging for Seraphine from the ground. She narrowly dodged the swipe of its claws, retreating away from its close vicinity.

With her outstretched hand, she threw a beam of fire towards it. The creature shrieked in surprise.

“I am still a little unsure,” Kastiel said, his breathing heavy, “why your creature is more scared of you than mine are scared of me.”

The ray of fire missed the creature, though it ignited the ground beside the creature’s feet. It went berserk.

Seraphine blinked.

“It’s my fire, Kastiel.”

“That’s really great, moon fire,” he grunted, “but I’m kind of busy.”

Strangely enough, despite her parents’ absence, the empty city, and the strangest looking creature attacking them, Seraphine wanted to laugh and jump with joy at his reply.

Her happiness ignited something inside her—something fierce and strong.

This time, Seraphine ran towards the creature without hesitation, her hands in flames. She grabbed the thing just by the arm—or what looked like it’s arm— it’s claws trying to swipe her hands away, screaming, wailing, before she slammed her open palm onto its chest. It ignited from the inside, the black turning into gold, then orange, then red, before exploding into cinders.

Seraphine twisted around, just in time, to hold off the oncoming creature headed her way.

She fell on her back, the impact making her cry out. Its claws drew blood on her shoulder, on her new training clothes, as it tried to claw at her neck. She fended the creature off with all her strength, before using her fire over its heart to burn it from the inside out.

*****

“Why am I not surprised that you didn’t listen to what I said, Kastiel?”

“I probably should have listened,” he mumbled under his breath, landing back down on the castle foyer with Seraphine. Both of them were covered in dirt and the black sticky blood from the creature. Yet despite this, he was so proud of her for holding her own.

“What happened to you?” Asterin asked.

“We were attacked.”

Azriel studied him quietly—worrying about him—the way he only knew how.

“It was a dark creature we’d never seen before. Tall, skinny with long claws.”

“It was scared of my fire,” Seraphine added.

Asterin’s eyes went wild—the Thirteen mimicking her panic. “How many?”

“Four.”

“And the bodies?”

“Seraphine took care of that.”

“We need to leave—now.”

Kastiel’s first instinct was to grab his mate, to protect her, to make a run for it. Yet when he saw the turquoise with the ring of gold, the only emotion blazing through it was determination.

“What is it Asterin?” Seraphine asked with a cold, lethal voice he had never heard from his mate.

“The Valg.”


	6. Chapter 6

A folded piece of paper placed on top of a piano was the only indication that anyone had been at Orynth.

It could have been days, weeks, months or even years since—yet Seraphine didn’t know.

She wasn’t there.

Her fingers danced on Enox’s reigns, mimicking the moments earlier on, when she sat in front of her mother’s piano, silently playing a sonata. It was hauntingly sweet—just like her mother. Ever since Seraphine was small, all she’d wanted to be was just like her mother.

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius Whitethorn.

She strapped her pack on Enox, double checking his reigns before their departure. Fen sat by her feet, watching her every move with his ears up. To Seraphine’s surprise, Asterin allowed Azriel to lead half of the Thirteen through the city. They were to inspect the rest of the city, whilst the rest of the group prepared for their next journey—towards the other half of her family—towards Rifthold.

As Seraphine double checked the reigns on all of the wyverns, Fen whined beside her. He had been following her like a shadow ever since she came back with Kastiel from the city.

She scratched his ears. “I miss them too,” she murmured absently.

Fen shook her touch away. He whined again.

“What is it boy?”

He ran towards the northern gardens.

An overwhelming sense of dread came over Seraphine.

She didn’t hesitate to follow him.

Didn’t hesitate, as they passed dead rose bushes and flowers.

Didn’t hesitate, as she followed Fen into the small hedge maze in the center of the northern garden.

Didn’t hesitate until she saw the familiar, dark blood stains splattered on the leaves, on the grass, on the countless bodies of the Valg on the ground.

Seraphine fell on her hands and knees, her eyes prickling at the sight in front of her.

A wolf with white fur and onyx eyes.

*****

She’s never met anyone like him.

It wasn’t his classically beautiful face, nor the massive wings tucked tightly behind his back.

It was the sight of a Fae warrior—so closed off—so hidden behind shadows and darkness that pulled her towards him.

Asterin wanted to break that wall apart.

Piece by piece, layer by layer, until she really saw him.

The real him that didn’t hide behind the scars.

The real him that didn’t flinch at the sight of her iron teeth and nails.

Asterin wanted to unravel him, understand him until his shadows made way to reveal his heart.

*****

“Are you missing home?” Azriel asked.

Kastiel ran his hands over the bookshelf along the wall, having spent nearly an hour going through the Galathynius estate by himself. “Velaris I miss. The bickering of Aunt Nesta and Cassian—not so much.”

They share a knowing look.

Whilst Azriel scouted for any remaining Valgs in the city, Kastiel decided to make sure no Valg dwelled anywhere near Seraphine’s home. Now that Azriel is back, he was glad of the help. The castle was huge—much bigger than the House of Mist. Kastiel was determined to get through every level, every floor until he knew the place was safe. Yet there was also something nagging his mind.

“You go, I’ll finish this.”

“No, it’s fine,” they continued around corners and hallways. “I can’t always be there to protect her.”

Azriel lifted a brow in response. “Since when did you develop this admirable self control?

Kastiel laughed.

“Maybe this place is good for you, after all?”

“Are you jealous, Uncle?”

“If there is anything in this new world that I’m jealous of, Kastiel, it’s the peace and quiet.”

“I’ll tell father you’d like to stay in Erilea then,” Kastiel replied, “where there are plenty of witches and demons to slay, just to your liking.” 

Azriel’s answering gaze made him stop on his feet.

Before he could say any more, a loud, shrill inhuman cry cut through the air like a knife in the distance.

A black hole suddenly opened up in front of them.

Three Valg creatures stepped out and lunged for their throats.

“Cut the heads off,” Azriel ordered, before winnowing behind one of the Valgs and slicing its head off.

Kastiel did the same. He unsheathed his sword, wielding it across from him towards the oncoming Valg. He sliced it’s arm off, before lunging down and taking sweeping the creature’s legs out from under it. Azriel was there to finish the Valg off from him. He wanted to get to Seraphine as soon as he could. 

“Go, Kastiel.”

He winnowed away.

Kastiel appeared outside of the castle grounds, before winnowing again towards the distance, the gardens, the beginning of the hedge maze. His wings flared out behind him as he flew over greenery, the blood splattered leaves, the Valg bodies, and there, in the centre of the maze, was Seraphine.

Her silver hair looked as if it were on fire.

Actually—it  _ was  _ on fire.

Six Valg creatures surrounded her in a circle.

Yet she didn’t cower, didn’t shake or show any fear at their presence. In fact, she was ignited at the challenge, daring them to come anywhere near her. To touch her fire—to feel her wrath.

Kastiel had never been more turned on at such an inappropriate time.

Seraphine’s back was to him, her hair and arms lit up, whilst Fen faced his way. A white wolf laid unconscious between them.

Kastiel was about to join them, about to unleash his powers on the Valg, when Seraphine twisted her arm across from her body and let out an arc of fire. He had never seen her wield her fire like that—beautiful, bold and brave.

Her fire was her sword.

The sleek red blades of it cut cleanly through the three heads of the Valgs in front of her.

Kastiel shot an arrow of water aimed towards the Valg’s head. The powers he inherited from his mother were practically useless against the Valg. Even his father’s Daemati powers can’t be used on a creature already dead. Kastiel came swooping down, his wings stretching out as he landed on top of a Valg and pierced through it’s skull from the top straight down to it’s throat.

Seraphine turned around to face his way, before Kastiel twisted his sword out and sliced through the Valg’s neck.

“Are you hurt?” he asked immediately, coming down on the ground where Seraphine cradled the white wolf.

She dodged another Valg, before Kastiel helped her finish it off with his sword.

The Valg’s head rolled by their feet.

“Kastiel,” she said, ignoring his question, “you have to help Fenrys!”

Seraphine’s desperate eyes found his. He couldn’t say no to her—even if he tried.

He bent down low, examining the limp figure between her arms. The wolf still had a pulse. He offered the creature some water from his hands.

Azriel appeared out of nowhere.

“The witches are ready,” he said. “We’re leaving now.”

Seraphine looked up at him, “but what about Fenrys?” she gestured at the wolf who was starting to stir in her arms.

“The quicker we get to Rifthold—the quicker we can get to a healer.”

Suddenly, a flash of light lit up between Seraphine’s hands. 

The wolf transformed in front of their very eyes.

A blonde haired Fae now laid on Seraphine. She looked so small next to his large tanned physique.

He stirred awake, his onyx eyes opening wide at the sight of her.


	7. Chapter 7

Seraphine didn’t rest until the familiar sight of Rifthold was upon them. The journey was quick—yet to her it still seemed too long a wait to help Fenrys. It was more convenient for Fenrys to fly with Asterin as she had the biggest wyvern, yet while he was flying with her—he was weak, unresponsive, and he didn’t speak to anyone. More than once Seraphine caught him looking at her in the corner of her eyes, though now he was fast asleep.

More and more questions piled up against each other in Seraphine’s mind. They couldn’t afford to waste another day without answers. She knew Kastiel was desperate to find out how she had ended up at Endovier, and in turn, she was desperate to find out what had become of her family and her home.

Kastiel flew close beside her, his outstretched hand patting Enox. In the evening light, where the pink and purple hues of the sunset shone, Kastiel looked even more beautiful. The freckles on his nose became more prominent, whilst the hard lines of his jaw framed his sculpted face.

“What are you thinking?” he asked her.

“How beautiful you are.”

Kastiel gracefully tucked his wings in and straddled Enox behind her. He wrapped his thighs between her legs, wrapped his arms between her arms and rested his chin on her shoulder. He held her so closely, that if anybody looked up to see them, it would have looked like they were one person.

Seraphine’s body sang in response.

“You stole my line, moon fire,” he whispered in her ear, gripping her thigh.

Seraphine shivered at the feel of his breath so close to her. Her heart became a wild, wild thing as Kastiel rubbed lazy circles on her inner thigh.

“I’m so proud of you,” he continued to whisper without stopping to touch her, smell her, taste her, “for being so strong.” He kissed her throat. “Even after everything that’s happened.”

A small noise came out of her mouth, and an ache built between her legs. She turned her head and found his lips. Kastiel’s hands dared to inch closer up her leg, where his thumb brushed the soft spot between her legs. It was short and sweet and filled with sure promises of what’s to happen later.

“Mother above,” Kastiel mumbled, almost like a curse, “this is going to be the longest flight of my life.”

*****

Kastiel flew past the Avery River, through the cobblestoned streets of Rifthold and into the city. He steered Enox past the harbour, the shopping district and into the stone castle. Below him, the people of Rifthold were already heading home for the day—the stores closing just as the sunset behind them on the horizon.

Seraphine had fallen asleep in front of him, her head resting on his shoulder. Dark shadows already made its way under her eyes. Constant flying—and using her powers—without proper rest made her look so frail. Kastiel desperately wanted to sit Seraphine down to sleep and eat without any worries for the rest of his life, though he knew, it won’t be any time soon.

The Thirteen in front of him made a swift land in front of the stone castle. He followed them closely. Steering Enox felt like second nature to him. He used the pressure of his thighs around the wyvern to steer him, whilst he cradled Seraphine between his arms.

Kastiel lightly brushed Seraphine’s hair away from her face. Her lips were slightly open. He cupped her face in his hands, hating himself for having to wake her. He looked beside him.

Onyx eyes met his own.

The blonde Fae,  _ Fenrys— _ like a mash up of his parent's names—had been watching them from afar. He looked ragged like he’d just gone through hell and back.

He probably has.

Seraphine stirred in his arms. Ignoring Fenrys’ gaze, Kastiel helped her stand on her feet.

The front doors of the stoned castle opened, revealing a tall girl with long raven black hair and iron teeth and nails. She wore simple black trousers and a black tunic.

Asterin approached her first, but the girl went straight towards Fenrys. She fussed over him, checking his pulse, feeling his temperature before turning around to make a beeline towards them.

He could feel Seraphine tense up in front of him.

Up close, the girl’s features looked too big for her small face. Her eyes were dark gold, her lips a shade too light for her tanned face. She almost looked gentle, in a way, though it was lost in the hatred churning in her eyes.

“This is all your fault,” she spat at Seraphine.

“No, no, no, I didn’t mean for any of—”

“This has happened,” she interrupted, louder this time for everyone to hear, “because of you—because you were born.”

*****

A heavy weight settled on Seraphine.

She felt it the moment she saw Aures, the moment Aures took Fenrys away, the moment she realised none of her people, her family were here. Even the castle she had gotten so used to growing up was strangely empty—Manon and Dorian were nowhere to be found.

Seraphine sat in a massive dining room, a grand selection of food and goblets placed in front of them on a mahogany table. The room was adorned with floor to ceiling windows on every side, welcoming in the moonlight. It would have been a beautiful sight—though the air was thick with unease.

She watched the fire flicker on the chandelier above her. So many thoughts snaked through her mind, what to do, where to go, when she would see her family and how she could possibly say the things left unsaid? She played with the fire lit on the chandeliers between her fingers.

When Asterin walked through the doors—Aures right behind her—Seraphine stood up. “How is he?”

Aures sat at the head of the table, directly to Seraphine’s right whilst Asterin sat in front of her. She filled her godless with red liquid. “Fine now, no thanks to you.”

Seraphine winced at her clipped tone.

Kastiel gripped the fork he was holding between his hands. Seraphine reached for his hand across the mahogany table and squeezed.

“Listen, Aur—”

“Don’t call me that,” she interrupted. “We stopped being friends the moment you left.”

Seraphine held Aures’ gaze. They were a churning gold that she used to know so well. Though now, they were so full of hatred at her—perhaps for the years she was gone, for the years and years, Seraphine was not there for her.

“Aures,” Asterin said sternly, “stop being like your mother. We’ve just fought off a Valg hive at Orynth. Now, tell us what’s happened.”

“You mean after the Princess of Terrasen ran from her destiny?”

“You have no idea what’s happened,” Serafine replied.

“Really? So you mean to tell me, Princess, that you didn’t run the moment you heard your prophecy?”

Seraphine blinked at her.

Aures stared back. “You honestly didn’t know? Even to this day?” she took a swig of her goblet, “by the Gods, nearly a century has passed Sera.”

“You know why I left—I needed to get my powers back.”

“That was the biggest lie. You didn’t need your powers back. They were never gone in the first place.”

“I don’t understand.”

“ _ A marking, a ruby as bright as blood, an eclipse, _ ” Aures answered. She gave Seraphine a hard look. “That was your prophecy, ever since you were born.”

Seraphine lost her voice to speak.

A marking.

A ruby as bright as blood.

An eclipse.

“But what does it mean,” she said absently, almost as if her mind had left her body and had gone somewhere far, far away. Kastiel joined their hands together and squeezed, bringing her back to the present.

“A prophecy,” Aures said, “of the events before the circle closes.”

*****

Kastiel watched the two exchange words back and forth. It was hard not to notice the stark contrast between Aures and Seraphine. Looking at them now, how they moved and interacted with each other side by side, reminded him of two sides of the same coin. Black and white. Darkness and light. Secrets and truth.

They balanced each other—despite the unspoken bad blood between them now.

“What’s happened to the people of Orynth?” he asked for Seraphine, who had remained quiet from Aures’ revelations beside him.

“They’re in the Fae lands—at Doranelle.”

“How can we trust you?”

Aures cackled loudly, “because my mother told me—because she doesn’t try to protect me with deceit and lies like Aelin and Rowan do for her.”

Asterin gave her another hard look. “Are Manon and the King of Adarlan there too?”

Aures nodded.

“What are they all doing there?” he asked.

Aures looked him up and down, and towards Azriel on the other side of him. Her lips tilted up. “You’re not from here,” she simply said.

“No,” Azriel answered for him. His Uncle’s eyes quickly darted towards Asterin. “We came from Prythian, through a portal created by one of our family.”

“Interesting,” Aures purred. “My mother would want to hear all about this, though it would not be wise to send you and Seraphine to Doranelle.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because Aelin is trying to protect Seraphine the only way she knows how—by keeping secrets.”

A quietness settled between the group.

“I’ll go,” Asterin spoke up. “I’ll fly to Doranelle and let Manon know of what’s happened to Orynth and Seraphine. I’ll fly back as quickly as I can to bring back news.”

“I’ll come with you,” Azriel said, his voice unwavering like cold hard stone.

Kastiel looked at his Uncle, at the shadows gathering tightly close to him.

“You will stay here, Kastiel,” he said, “that’s an order.”

Kastiel simply nodded in reply. He couldn’t voice a promise that may not be true.

“Do you know anything more about the circle?” he asked Aures.

She swirled the contents of the goblet in her hands. “My mother told me that when Seraphine was born, she became another Heir of Mala Fire-Bringer. Because of that, it’s in her blood, Seraphine’s blood—Mala’s blood—to unlock the lock, undo what has been forged, by The Queen Who Was Promised.” 

*****

Seraphine felt cold for the first time since her fire came back to her.

She didn’t understand why her mother and father—her family—would hide this from her.

The truth, it seemed, had been avoided her whole life.

Like the fire that ran freely through her hands—taken away from her—for what? She didn't understand, simply couldn’t wrap her mind to the reasons as to why her powers would have been taken from her. She came here for answers—but received more questions in return.

Seraphine turned off the gushing water and stepped into a massive bubble filled claw footed bathtub. Her mother taught her that any confused heart could always be unraveled by a lavender scented, hot bath.

She ran her hands through the water, relishing in the little comforts of her previous life in Orynth.

Seraphine heard the door creak open and close behind her.

She remained calm, despite her erratic heartbeat.

Kastiel appeared in front of her, his full leather armour still on him.

He made quick work of that.

Without speaking, he unsheathed his sword, unhooked the straps on his chest and back. His tunic fell on the bathroom floor with a soft sigh, revealing his broad shoulders, his bare chest, and his sculpted body—hardened and defined through years and years of training.

Seraphine marveled at him standing in front of her, excitement rippling out of her in waves. “And I thought this couldn’t get any better,” she whispered to him, before he dropped his belt and trousers and stepped into the bathtub with her.

*****

Waking up beside his mate in the mornings would never tire him. Seraphine was sprawled on her stomach, her hair a mess under the white satin covers as she lightly snored in the early mornings. She slept peacefully for him to dare and wake her.

Kastiel smiled at the thought.

Now, he watched Azriel prepare himself for his departure with Asterin.

The way the two moved around didn’t go unnoticed by anyone who had eyes.

Azriel became Asterin’s shadow.

And somehow—she became his light.

“Don’t do anything Cassian would do,” was his Uncle’s only departing words.

*****

Seraphine slowly opened her eyes.

The bright morning light filtered through the windows, blinding her for a moment. She cursed Kastiel for opening every single curtain in their room.

_ Their _ room—not just hers.

Seraphine quickly got dressed in a casual tunic and trousers, excited at the thought of seeing him. She was busy sifting through her bag when her door opened and closed behind her. 

Seraphine twisted around to find onyx eyes gazing at her.

Without a word, Fenrys reached over and held her tight.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he said to her, his mouth pulling up at the corners to reveal a gorgeous smile.

It was contagious.

She smiled back at him, relief filling her up.

He was alright, he was fine, he’s here.

“I waited for you. I knew you would come back to Orynth.”

Seraphine’s smile dropped.

She didn’t know how to voice her unease. She was still so confused, between the prophecy and the secrets her parents kept from her, Aures and Fenrys. “You shouldn’t have—not after what’s happened.” She shook her head, “this is all my fault.”

Fenrys grabbed her face between his hands. “I’m not leaving you again,” he said, “I made a mistake Sera, and I’ve regretted it ever since you left.”

His eyes locked with hers.

And she held her breath, as he came closer and closer to her.


	8. Chapter 8

A hand landed on his shoulder.

Not just any mortal hand—but one made up of iron nails.

Kastiel turned from watching the two dots disappear in the sky to meet dark golden eyes. He shook her grip away.

“Do you know what it means, to break a forged lock?”

He stared her down, unflinching, unmoving, without uttering a single word.

She revealed her iron teeth, running her iron nail up from his chest to his exposed throat.

“It is to die—to give up your life for the greater good.”

His body locked up.

The sharp iron tip of Aures’ nail settling on top of his erratic pulse.

“The question isn’t whether Seraphine could do it,” she purred in his ear–inhaling his scent–Seraphine’s scent from him, “it’s whether you are willing to let her go.”

*****

“Trust me,” he whispered into her lips, her body tensing at his closeness, “you won’t regret it.”

Fenrys’ mouth crashed into hers.

At first, Seraphine fought against it, at the feel of his lips against hers. She couldn’t calm her mind from shouting no, no, no.

Though suddenly, like the flicker of a candle, she felt weak at the knees, too tired of fighting something she could barely control.

Seraphine let go—her mouth slackening to let him in—for his tongue to explore in hers.

*****

Kastiel raced up the stairs.

Through endless hallways, around a corner and up another flight.

He passed countless guards, maids, and witches—though he bared them no mind as he turned the corner into the left wing, where his room was tucked away.

He stopped in his steps.

“Fenrys?” he called, twisting around to reveal the tall figure with blonde hair.

Fenrys turned around to meet his gaze.

“How are you?” Kastiel asked, assessing Fenrys for any signs of injury during the Valg attack at Orynth. He looked perfectly fine.

“I’m feeling much better now after the healers got their hands on me. I can’t thank you and Seraphine enough for saving me.”

“Did you come to visit her?”

Fenrys replied with a small smile. “I knocked,” he said, “but it seems she might still be asleep.”

Kastiel’s brows furrowed.

“I’m sure she’s just tired,” Fenrys reassured him. “She will need the rest—especially before the guests start arriving for the ball.”

“What ball?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Fenrys asked him. “I suppose not. It is Aures after all. She’s organised a small party for Seraphine’s arrival. I’ll see you then.”

Kastiel watched Fenrys’ back disappear around the corner.

He opened the door into his rooms.

Kastiel blinked, adjusting his eyes. The curtains had been drawn close, the room almost in complete darkness.

He made his way to the bed, where Seraphine was sprawled on her back. Without waking her, he helped her on her side. He gently tucked a pillow behind Seraphine to keep her from rolling.

Kastiel brushed her silver hair away from her face. She was breathing hard, her face covered in sweat. 

Her eyelids opened at his touch.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured. Kastiel gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, tucking her tightly into bed.

He drew a few curtains open before settling himself beside Seraphine. She deserved the long rest, and after what she’d been through, she needed it. Kastiel didn’t want to be anywhere else when she awoke.

Aures found them sometime later.

She opened their door without knocking, her shoulders leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed.

“Are you both staying in bed all day?” she gestured to them. “Who knew the Princess of Terrasen was so lazy?”

Kastiel placed the book he had been reading down. “Don’t pretend you’re not jealous, Aures. I’m sure this is exactly where you’d want to be.”

Aures glared back at him. “Wake her up. It’s high noon. I want someone to accompany me on my stroll in the gardens before the ball.”

*****

Seraphine readjusted the straps on her shoes, muttering an unintelligent curse under her breath.

Aures clicked her tongue beside her. “It’s not going to get any more comfortable the more you fiddle with it.”

“Why do we need to wear such ridiculous dresses and shoes for a stroll in the garden?”

“To keep up appearances of course!” Aures gestured to herself, “I am the Princess of Adarlan, Heir to the Crochan Queen—and if you haven’t forgotten from your incredibly long sleep—you are the Princess of Terrasen. If you want to continue to walk beside me, hold your head up and act like one.”

Seraphine released a sigh and hurried to catch up behind Aures. In actual fact, she didn’t want to walk anywhere near her. “I’m glad to know you haven’t changed a bit,” she mumbled under her breath.

They continued to walk in silence—side by side—the way they used to as children. Back then, their friendship had been simpler, effortless, like day and night. Nobody could keep them away from each other.

“You know,” Seraphine began, “every time I came across a hard decision, I would always think of what you would do if you were beside me.”

Aures continued to walk without stopping—her face stone cold—revealing nothing.

“More than once, I wished to the stars above that my life was different, that I was worth the adoring gaze of my mother and father, that I was stronger, wiser, better,” Seraphine hung her head, her voice almost a whisper, “that I was like you.”

“It’s too late now for apologies.”

“Aur I—”

“I told you. I don’t want to hear it. I didn’t ask you here to join me so I could hear your sob story. You never thought about us, never considered how we felt, how we were, how we would take the news of our best friend leaving for Gods knows how long.”

Seraphine stopped in her tracks, forgetting how her shoes pinched her toes. “I’m here now Aures and I would do anything to fix the mess I’ve left behind.

Aures pinned her with a hard look, “it was 70 years, Seraphine.” The air grew thick between them, the backdrop of flowers blooming reduced to nothing. “70 years still in the shadow of a girl who disappeared.”

The quiet swirled between them. It was strange, how close Seraphine finally felt to Aures—yet how far they actually were now. She missed her more than anything. A part of her has always felt like it was left behind. Now she knew who, not what, it was. 

The distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the distance, breaking their silence.

Seraphine and Aures shared a look, before running towards the sound, towards the blows and grunts, their dresses swishing at their feet.

“What in the Gods are you two doing?”

Kastiel and Fenrys both grunted “training” unintelligibly to Aures. They circled each other, Kastiel’s wings tucked tightly behind him, their tunics drenched with sweat and their swords were forgotten on the ground by their feet.

Fenrys dropped low, taking Kastiel off his feet and landing a blow to his face.

Seraphine cringed at the sound of the impact. She could never understand how any of this was helpful.

“Don’t damage your faces before the ball you territorial Fae bastards!” Aures shouted beside her.

The two ignored her. In fact, they seemed to fight harder. Kastiel grabbed Fenrys by the collar of his tunic, bringing the blonde haired Fae down hard on the ground. They rolled over, Kastiel now straddling Fenrys, his fists landing strike after strike onto Fenrys’ face.

“I’m not really sure how this is classified as training—but please, do continue. Feel free to relieve off some of your clothing if you’d like.”

Seraphine’s mouth fell open in surprise. Aures met her gaze, her eyes wrinkled at the sides—almost, but not quite a smile—as if to say  _ well, what do you expect from me? _

“Are you two betting on us?” Kastiel asked raggedly, his lips lifting at the corners towards them. He now stood upright, his arms held high, covering his face in a fighting position. The two Fae males continue to circle each other down, their chests heaving hard. They must have been at it for a while.

Fenrys’ eyes land on hers. He seemed to take his time to study her—his onyx eyes running up and down the length of her body. Seraphine’s breathing faltered under his gaze.

All of a sudden, Kastiel landed a jab at Fenrys. He came closer towards him as if to embrace the blonde haired Fae. Instead, Kastiel mumbled something in Fenrys’ ear that Seraphine couldn’t make out.

Fenrys replied with a ruthless uppercut. He swiftly dodged Kastiel’s oncoming kick, before dancing around Kastiel’s defenses.

Fenrys’ mouth moved.

Kastiel’s eyes land on hers.

She watched, as if in slow motion, whilst Kastiel turned from his spot and tackled Fenrys back on the ground. The dust on the ground lifted from the impact of Fenrys’ body. Kastiel straddled Fenrys, before he lifted his arm up and created a spike made of solid ice in his hands.

He swung his arms down in a roar.

“Kastiel, don’t!” Seraphine yelled as she ran towards them, her fire melting the ice in his hands.

Kastiel’s empty clenched fist slammed into Fenrys’ chest.

The sound echoed all around them.

“And suddenly my life has started to get more interesting,” Aures said beside her.

*****

Kastiel watched Seraphine get dressed in front of him.

Her movements were rough, forceful—almost clumsy from how hard she tried to control her emotions. Yet Kastiel knew her so well. He read her like an open book.

They hadn’t talked about the events prior, but he knew she was close to breaking her silence.

She sat in front of her vanity, wearing a casual slip on dress that reminded him of the one she wore for dinner at the House of Wind.

From her position, he could clearly see the red marks which adorned her back.

The sight of them cleared his mind, his senses.

He strolled behind Seraphine and gathered her silver hair in his hands.

She froze from his touch, but soon relaxed as he grabbed her brush on the vanity and started combing her hair.

Kastiel was lost gazing at the silver in his hands glistening like silk—and like moonlight, it weighed nothing, barely just a breeze between his fingers.

“Why won’t you just tell me what’s happened—what made you so upset Kastiel,” she said to him, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

Kastiel didn’t know.

“Let me in,” she pressed him.

He didn’t say anything. All he could remember was the strange swell of anger that came his way during the fight. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Seraphine stood and left him in his rooms.

*****

The red-and-gold glass doors of the Great Hall appeared in front of Seraphine. She could already hear the sounds of a waltz and chatter inside. She suddenly wished she could have slipped into the ball through a side door to remain unnoticed. Or had asked Kastiel to escort her instead of meeting at the Great Hall. Though she was still upset with him—upset with the truth he still kept from her. Seraphine hated the secrets between them. Kastiel was the one who promised that there wouldn't be any secrets at all, but she didn’t want to argue, especially after the headache she’s had all day. She was determined to make things right with Kastiel and enjoy her night here at Riftfold despite everything that’s happening. She shook her nerves away.

“I can fight a couple of Valgs, but I’m terrified of large crowds?” Seraphine mumbled to herself.

She plucked up the courage and nodded at the guards to open the doors.

Seraphine stepped foot in the Great Hall and was instantly greeted by the view of gorgeously laid flower wreaths and candles. A massive crystal chandelier adorned the ceiling lighting up tables and tables of extravagant foods against the walls.

A sea of people stopped what they were doing to gaze up at her.

Seraphine didn’t know how Aures had managed to organised this so quickly.

She took a deep breath to steady herself and made her way slowly down the stairs.


	9. Chapter 9

Kastiel’s heart stopped.

It felt as if he was filled up with light as his mate came down the stairs.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and he couldn’t believe it—how lucky he was to find her.

Seraphine held her dress up, as she made her way down towards him. Her dress was not pure white, but rather a greyish offset and its wide skirts and bodice were encrusted with thousands of minuscule crystals that reminded Kastiel of the surface of the Sidra River.

Though her silver hair was left the way it was when she exited their rooms. It hung straight and loose behind her.

Kastiel stepped forward, his arms awaiting hers at the bottom of the stairs.

“You are the moon that burns through the night,” he said loudly, clearly to anyone who would dare to listen.

Seraphine’s face flushes red as she linked her arms with his.

He led her straight towards the center of the ballroom.

“This is the first time,” he murmured into her ear, drawing her close as they swayed with the music, “that we’ve ever attended anything so formal.”

“I don’t care where we are,” she said to him, “so long as I’m with you.”

Seraphine rested her head on his chest.

Kastiel gripped her tighter as the two silently danced.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “About what happened before. It will never happen again.”

She pulled away to look up at him. “What are you thinking?”

He couldn’t find the right words to speak, to say what was on his mind. He hated himself, for not having the answers his mate was searching for.

“Are you ever going to tell me?” she asked him.

Kastiel watched in silence as seconds passed between them. Seraphine’s face fell in betrayal.

“What happened to no secrets between us?” she whispered to him.

As if the Cauldron took pity on Kastiel and chose to save him, someone cleared their throats beside them.

*****

“May I dance with the Princess of Terrasen?”

Seraphine blinked up at Fenrys, who was wearing a dark pewter tunic that brought out the colour of his hair.

She took his hand without a second glance at Kastiel.

Unabashedly, Fenrys whisked her away, losing themselves in the crowd.

“Are you enjoying your ball,” Fenrys asked her, his hands dipping low on her back.

She shivered at his touch. “I’m so sorry about what happened before, Fenrys! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine Seraphine, just a scuffle between two Fae males.”

“What was it about?”

“Our big egos,” Fenrys answered with a laugh. Though it didn’t set her at ease. She knew Kastiel—more than anyone else. He would never do that without having a reason. Seraphine’s head throbbed at the thought.

“Isn’t it wonderful to have so many people here so happy to see you back?”

“It is,” she quietly agreed with him. “I never would have expected it.”

“I’m glad to have you back, Seraphine.”

“Did you,” she began, cursing herself at how small her voice sounded, “really wait for me at Orynth? Even after my parents left?”

“I did.”

“Even when you knew of the Valg?”

“Yes.”

“Then why?”

“Because of you.”

She nearly took a step back, but Fenrys held her tightly next to him. It felt as if the walls were closing in around her, the floors underneath opening up to swallow her whole. Seraphine felt like she was about to throw up.

“Seraphine?” Fenrys asked worriedly. “You don’t look well.”

“I think I need some fresh air,” she said, already looking up to find a set of familiar blue eyes. She couldn’t find them.

“I’ll escort you out,” Fenrys said, already guiding her through the swaying bodies.

“But Kastiel—”

“I saw him before,” he replied worriedly. “He disappeared somewhere with Aures.”

Seraphine met his eyes, trying to find the truth in his words.

Instead, Fenrys led her by the hand, his fingers lacing through hers.

She looked down at his hands, at the pressure digging into her skin from the black ring adorning his finger.

*****

Kastiel searched for her silver hair in the crowd.

Heads turned his way, gazing back at him for far longer than just a casual glance.

“Seraphine’s not going to be sacrificed on a slab just because she’s not next to you,” Aures purred in his ear.

He gave her a hard look.

“What is it with you Fae boys and your women?”

Her iron teeth—freshly polished for tonight—glistened in front of him, contrasting the blood red dress that plunged low between her breasts.

“You don’t say much do you?”

“That’s what happens when you spend too much time with a Shadowsinger.”

Aures tilted her head, contemplating what he’d said, before her face suddenly deadly serious.

“I need you to come with me,” she said, already walking towards the exit.

Kastiel hesitated. “Let me find Seraphine first.”

“Whatever,” Aures replied. “I’ll wait outside. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Kastiel turned one last time to find his mate in the crowd. He doubted himself—he should control himself. Aures was right. He didn’t need to hover over Seraphine. She was more than capable of taking care of herself, especially after watching her fight off the Valg.

Kastiel finally laid eyes on her silver hair, gleaming like moonlight.

She was dancing with Fenrys, their movements awfully relaxed even for the slow song. Yet the way she looked up at him—as if she was  _ hungry _ for more—though it was suddenly gone like dust in the wind.

“She’s my mate,” he had told Fenrys earlier today, during their training in the gardens.  _ Stay away from her _ were the words lost in his lips, before Fenrys had replied with an uppercut to his face, the blow aimed more towards Kastiel’s heart than his outer self.

_ She’s going to leave you the moment I confess my love for her. _

Kastiel shook the sudden anger taking over him from Fenrys’ words.

Seraphine was fine—Kastiel trusted her. He knew how much she loved him. Even if Fenrys told his honest feelings to Seraphine, he was certain that she would turn the blonde haired Fae down. With one last glance towards them, Kastiel prayed to the Cauldron that he was doing the right thing.

“Where are we going?” he asked after exiting the Great Hall to meet with Aures. He wanted this to be over and done with.

“East Wing—in one of the rooms.”

Kastiel raised a brow.

She rolled her eyes at him. “You may have beautiful wings Kastiel, but I don’t swing that way,” she said. “Now hurry up, this is urgent.”

He followed her orders and laid a hand on her arm.

Surprise covered her face before they vanished into mist and shadows.

*****

“What in Adarlan was that,” Aures growled, raising her iron nails up to meet his neck. “Don’t do that strange thing Fenrys can do without warning me! I despise it.”

Kastiel stepped away from her reach. “Show me what you needed to. Let’s get this over and done with.”

Aures rolled her eyes and strutted down the East Wing in front of him. Kastiel made a silent prayer to the Cauldron. Being with Aures was like having Amren and Mor right next to him. She had the beauty of his two Aunts, yet the vivaciousness and sass of each of them combined.

As they reached the end of the wing, in front of an old wooden door, Aures gave him one last look before placing her hands on the doorknob.

“Brace yourself, Winged Fae.” She slowly turned the knob open.

The smell hit Kastiel first.

It was putrid—the rancid odour of spoilt milk and animal carcasses.

The sight of the room was second.

Everything was strewn about, as if a wild animal was let loose in the small space, the curtains hanging in rags, the bed frame broken in different places.

“What happened here?” he heard himself ask.

“That’s why I brought you,” she said, stepping foot inside. Aures pushed the broken wooden bed away to reveal the markings on the ground—markings that resembled the same circular drawing Amren and his mother created in the House of Mist—on the floor of the wooden wagon where Seraphine had been taken. He took a step back. Kastiel was lying to himself. He wanted to find his mate—he needed to be next to her to make sure she’s safe.

Aures read the panic in his eyes, “I would never leave the precious Princess of Terrasen unprotected. All of my guards have their eyes on her.”

But they couldn’t protect them as he could.

“You’re the only Fae here that might be able to help, Kastiel. Is there any way you could figure out who was here?” she asked.

Kastiel stepped foot inside, briefly touching the markings on the floor. It looked rushed, the way it was scribbled under his fingers—as if the perpetrator was practicing.

“They’re Wyrdmarks,” Aures said, her voice sounding far away.

The markings—the Wyrdmarks—a door to his home, to his house in Velaris, back to his family. He stood and turned his back to it.

Ignoring the smell of decay wafting through the air, Kastiel finally picked up on a faint scent.

Vague, almost non-existent, though still there.

“It’s Seraphine.” 

*****

Kastiel exploded into the tops of the stairs of the Great Hall—Aures right behind him.

“You can’t just disrupt an official court party,” she hissed at him.

He ignored her. “The last time I saw her, she was with Fenrys,” he explained, a lethal calm settling over him. “Ask your guards if they’ve seen her in and out of this room. I’ll look aro—”

Kastiel saw her then.

At the corner of the Great Hall, just beside the open window, it’s curtain blowing in the night breeze beside Seraphine’s flushed face. Her back was against the stone walls, her hair a mess, her lips lost on someone else’s.

Kastiel’s world shattered around him.

He took a step back.

And another.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

Fenrys’ body was pressed against hers, his back towards him. Though he didn’t need to see Fenrys’ face—all the answers were written on Seraphine’s.

Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes closed in pure bliss. She tilted her head to the side as Fenrys’ mouth left her lips and traveled down her neck.

Kastiel didn’t need to hear the moan that escaped her lips. He knew exactly what that looked like—her want and need for more. Yet instead of for him, it was for another Fae.

He didn’t need to see anymore.

*****

Ever since her whipping at Endovier, Seraphine had never slept on her back. In fact, she hated it—anything pressing on the tender marks of her skin.

She hated the feeling of being trapped, with her back against the wall, as if she were back inside her cage at the Salt Mines.

Kastiel would never do this to her.

He knew how bile rose at her throat every time anything pressed against her back. He knew how to soothe her, how to help her over during the night when she accidentally rolled in her sleep.

Every awful thought, every awful memory of the Salt Mines was soothed away by Kastiel.

He knew her well enough not to hold her up against a wall—trapping her as if bars were placed before her.

Seraphine blinked.

Once.

Twice.

And saw that it was not Kastiel—her mate—who was kissing her, as if they were sucking her life, her essence out of her.

It was a blonde haired Fae, with onyx eyes that were now as black as midnight on a moonless night. Suddenly, she remembered the black ring on his finger—the same one that her mother warned her about as a child. A bedtime story about a ring that allows the Valg to take over a body.

Before she could tear out a scream, Fenrys covered his hand over her mouth and together, they vanished into shadows.

*****

The wind whipped at his face, as Kastiel pushed his wings harder, faster, into the starless night. Dark clouds hovered above him, hiding the moon from illuminating his way.

He was lost—he knew it—but he didn’t care.

The image of Seraphine’s lips opening up into a silent moan played over and over in Kastiel’s head.

It felt as if someone clenched his heart between their hands—squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. He was a coward, he knew it too, for leaving as he did. How do you approach the woman you loved who was kissing another man? The thought left his eyes burning.

His fire bringer, his phoenix, his mate.

All the trust he felt now slipping away through his fingers.

Kastiel was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t see the thing headed straight towards him. Dodging to the side, he quickly landed on the ground before looking back to see what it had been.

A flash of a feathered white tail appeared.

Kastiel took a step back as the bird in front of him transformed in front of his eyes.

A tall, broad shouldered Fae with pointy ears stood in front of him. His tanned skin and silver hair contrasted the dark ink etched down the left side of his face.

“Are you crying?” the Fae male asked him with a slight accent, almost as if it was a purr.

Kastiel sputtered unintelligibly. He wanted to say yes, he was about to confess to this stranger that yes, yes he was crying. Yes, it was breaking down inside.

Help me, he wanted to say.

He dropped down on the ground and sat under a tree, leaning his head on its trunk.

The Fae male stood straight before him, a wicked looking sword strapped on his hip. He was clearly a trained warrior. The Cauldron only knows how many years this Fae had been honing in his body. Despite the set of pine green eyes staring expectantly back at him did not look threatening at all.

“I’m lost,” Kastiel whispered. He looked up at the stars, a silent wish on his lips.

It was quiet between them before the Fae warrior settled himself beside him.

“Luckily, I’ve got a few minutes to spare,” he said.

When Kastiel didn’t say anything, the Fae male turned his head towards him.

“I was like you, once. I was lost, in every sense, when I lost my wife and unborn child. It was a horrible time for me, but then I found my wife, and I learned to forgive myself. I learned that troubles are better shared with people you love.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then explain it to me, young one.”

“Have you ever seen something you wished you hadn’t? Even if it were true?”

Kastiel watched the Fae’s lips pull up at the corners, “you wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve felt that way. You’re not the only one.”

“Well, I wish there was a way to forget what has happened.”

“That sounds a lot like denial.”

Kastiel laughed out loud. It sounded wild, even to him.

“What’s happened has happened, young one. It’s what you do now that truly matters.”

They shared a look—Kastiel finding little reminders of his father on the Fae.

“This might come as a shock, but you also need to learn how to talk about the ‘f’ word.”

“The what?”

“Your  _ feelings _ .”

Just like that, the tense air around them lifted as the sounds of their chuckling surrounded them. When they settled, Kastiel took a deep breath.

“I found my mate kissing someone else,” he finally said out loud for the first time. It felt more real now that those words left his lips and somehow, he felt emptier than before.

The Fae male looked towards him, his pine green eyes going wide. “ _ What did Sera do? _ ” he asked, his voice deadly calm.

Kastiel stood up, his brows were drawn together. The Fae male joined him.

Suddenly, the sound of wings could be heard in the distance. He looked up at the wyverns in the sky.

“Looks like our time is up,” the Fae said beside him.

*****

Kastiel and Rowan stood at attention as three wyverns landed by their feet. He watched as black wings shimmered as a small wyvern descended down carrying a female with long gleaming, silver hair. At first, he wondered if this was the Queen of Terrasen, Seraphine’s mother, but her iron nails gleamed even in the moonless night, matching that of her wyverns.

“Kastiel?” a familiar voice—Azriel, appearing from his shadows—asked. “What are you doing here?”

Before he could reply, a sultry female voice asked, “Is this him?”

Kastiel turned just in time to meet the gaze of bright turquoise eyes with a ring of gold. It was the first thing he noticed, despite the massive gold crown atop her blonde head. The little details of this woman’s face—her small nose, the slight curve of her pointy ears were exactly identical to Seraphine’s.

It was strange, even to him, to finally stand in front of her. She was regal and powerful in every sense—and she was walking straight towards him. He didn’t know whether to bow or drop on one knee.

Instead, Kastiel held his own.

The Queen of Terrasen bared her teeth at him, her pointy canine’s drawn at full length. She held her delicate finger under his chin, lifting his face up to meet hers. Despite the darkness around them—they were Fae—they could see perfectly well. She gripped his chin and turned his head from side to side.

“Fireheart,” someone said beside him, though the accented purr was lost in Kastiel’s roaring head.

His body locked up under her delicate touch. It suddenly felt as if the temperature in the air had risen like he was burning like his blood was boiling. Kastiel stood perfectly still, beads of sweat now dripping from his face. It took him a moment longer to figure out that it was the Queen of Terrasen, her fire, Seraphine’s fire that was igniting him from the inside out. Kastiel held his own, without showing any flicker of pain. He took it as long as he could, staring straight in the eyes of the Queen of Terrasen, before releasing his own powers.

The water he inherited from the High Lady of the Night Court.

It cooled the fire raging in him, until he wrapped it around himself, around the delicate finger holding him to the spot.

The water crystallised on the tips of the Queen of Terrasen’s fingers, before it grew like wild thorns, up and up and up towards her knuckles.

Her lips peaked at the corners.

She turned her eyes towards Rowan, dismissing Kastiel. It didn't take long for her small smile to disappear, her face now stone cold. Though the two didn’t share any words out loud, he knew they were communicating in a different way—he’d grown up watching his parents have silent conversations right in front of him.

Kastiel held in his sigh, his breathing ragged from his exchange with the Queen of Terrasen. Their inner battle had used up most of his powers—though Kastiel tried to not let it show.

“Aelin,” the silver haired witch said beside her small, flower sniffing wyvern, “we need to go.”

The Queen of Terrasen turned to Kastiel, dismissing the witch. Her body was taut—tense. “Who was it?” she asked through clenched teeth

“Fen—”

They all turned at the unexpected sound.


	10. Chapter 10

She wanted to gag, to heave at the empty contents in her stomach. It felt like her body was tearing in half—the excruciating pain in her head already too far gone. But it wasn’t that. No. It was the feel of his wet lips all over hers, tasting, nipping, sucking.

They exploded into the night, only to reappear somewhere different. Again and again, until she couldn’t bear to keep her eyes open.

When they reappeared again at a different location, Seraphine fell on her hands and knees, the sound of dry heaving filling the air. Fenrys yanked her dress up, and she fought for control. Her dress tore at the seams, only a little, though enough to hear Fenrys’ intake of breath.

She turned to see the black depthless pits of his eyes make way to their real colour—onyx eyes—the real eyes of Fenrys.

He screamed from unseeable pain, his hands cradling his head, his fingers pulling at his hair, before his eyes land back on her.

“Run,” he said. “Run, Sera!”

She hesitated. This was the real Fenrys—not the one from before. Instead of running, she came closer to him, she held him in her hands before the phantom being was back, taking over Fenrys. He brought her down on the ground, his hands pressing on her shoulders, controlling her—her movements, her fire, her power.

This was different, this helplessness.

Not the same as being caged inside a wooden cart, not the same as being dragged on the ground by the end of a rope. Not the same as being whipped.

She wasn’t herself—didn’t feel like herself anymore.

Yet something kept her grounded.

She looked up to the night sky as if to make a wish, to the beings in the sky with wings. She blinked away her haze, seeing now for the first time, the hair that flapped in the breeze, the blue tunic he wore, the giant wings.

“KASTIEL.”

*****

  
  


He exploded into the sky at the sound of his name, the beating of his wings the only thing roaring in his ears.

Kastiel became the night, searching for his Moon.

_ Where is she, where is she, where is she. _

His eyes circled around him, trying to find her in the distance. His skin became taught—another part of him—his inner self felt like breaking free at the thought of Seraphine being in danger.

A groan and a flash of two shadows—gold and silver—on the ground, in the far distance, sent Kastiel flying.

For the first time in what felt like a long time, Kastiel tugged on the bond that tied him to his mate. He needed something—anything—to make sure that she was alright, that she was fighting, that she wasn’t letting go.

Kastiel was so focused, so determined, that he hadn’t been aware of the other Fae around him. Somehow, the wind engulfed Kastiel, propelling him forward, faster and faster, past the Fae around him, towards Fenrys and Seraphine winnowing in the distance. A White Tailed Hawk appeared next to him and released a high and mighty squawk.

They both drop lower to the ground as they gained on Fenrys and Seraphine.

A wall of fire stopped the pair winnowing further.

Orange illuminated the sky.

When Kastiel finally laid eyes on his mate, he nearly fell from the sky. Dark circles covered her eyes, her cheeks seemed hollow, and the weight she had put on in the past few days were once again gone.

Kastiel landed hard on the ground, just as Fenrys turned with Seraphine in front of him, her back pressed against his chest, a black gleaming knife at her throat. He reached them before the others could, his powers already reaching towards Fenrys’ mind. Though just like with the Valg, his Daemati powers didn’t work. 

“Seraphine,” Kastiel shouted over the roaring fire, his eyes locked onto the black pits of Fenrys’ eyes.

“Don’t come any closer,” Fenrys said, digging his knife into Seraphine’s neck, drawing blood.

A growl ripped from Kastiel’s throat.

“Stay where you are, or I’ll do much worse than this, Prince.”

“Just let her go.”

Fenrys erupted in laughter, his mate squirming between his arms. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a hundred years, Kastiel.”

The inferno surrounded them, the sounds of wyverns and Fae coming closer and closer. Kastiel could taste the sudden panic in the air as he watched Fenrys more agitated, more restless on the spot, his head watching the flames lick the air.

Kastiel took a hesitant step forward, his hand reaching out to his mate. But her expression was determined, her mouth set in a line that Kastiel hadn’t seen before. He didn’t know how to approach her, didn’t know how to save her.

Kastiel was about to make his move, about to winnow towards them before she mouthed one word.

_ Don’t. _

_ Don’t _ his mate said just as they disappeared right in front of him.

*****

A hard force brought him to the ground. Kastel landed on his back with a thud, before the Queen of Terrasen held her sword out at him. Her eyes blazed with fury.

“You,” she seethed, “why did you let them go?”

Kastiel didn’t know what to say, his mouth moving, but no sound was made. Don’t she said to him, just before he was about to save her from Fenrys. Seraphine didn't want his help, she asked him to stay away. “It’s what she wanted,” he heard himself say with disbelief.

The Queen of Terrasen cackled. She hooked the tip of her sword to the collar of his tunic, pulling him up to his feet. “How do you know that’s what she wanted?” she asked through clenched teeth, jabbing the sword at his chest with every word.

Azriel suddenly appeared beside him, his arm protecting the blade aimed at Kastiel’s chest.

Kastiel stepped out of his Uncle’s protective reach, “I’ve been wrong to not trust her before—she knows what she’s doing.”

“You’re her mate! You should have protected her. You should have done everything in your powers to not let them get away!”

Kastiel hung his head. He didn’t understand either—but Seraphine was strong, she could do this—he knew it in his heart even if he didn’t see it with his eyes. He raised his head up high, leveling his gaze to the Queen of Terrasen. “I’m not asking you to understand, but Seraphine can handle this. We need to trust her and be there for her when the time comes.”

The air grew thick between them.

“Fireheart,” Rowan soothed. “The young Fae is right. Go back to Rifthold, I’ll stay back to scout the area.”

Aelin didn’t take her eyes off Kastiel, silver lining her eyes, the fire blazing around them making her look mad as she said, “My daughter doesn’t deserve this—she doesn’t deserve you.”

*****

To say Aures was slightly shocked at their arrival was an understatement. The party was still in full swing when the Queen of Terrasen and the King and Queen of Adarlan arrived, along with the Wing Leader of the Thirteen and Kastiel and Azriel. The ball was quickly put to a close, the guests ushered out hurriedly to clear the castle of unwanted visitors.

Nobody wasted any time. The group gathered in front of a large oak table—already discussing what was to happen now.

The King and Queen of Adarlan sat to Kastiel’s right, with Aures between them. She had been quiet ever since their return, her boisterous expression now seemingly tamed for the first time. She barely spoke to anybody at the table—content with swirling the contents of the goblet in her hand—despite her father, Dorian, the King of Adarlan’s gentle, encouraging smiles.

The Queen of Terrasen still stood, pacing back and forth near the floor to ceiling windows. She looked as if she was in deep thought—just as everyone here was.

“Will you sit down Aelin, you’re going to burn through my carpet,” the Queen of Adarlan growled.

Aelin twisted around, her eyes zeroing in on the witch before she strutted towards them—her hands slamming on the table. “This shouldn’t have happened,” she said to no one in particular.

Kastiel cringe at her tone. Despite the awful exchange of words between them, Kastiel knew that the Queen of Terrasen was as worried as Seraphine as he was. He met her fiery eyes, “Your Royal Majesty I—”

“Drop the titles, Kastiel. Tell us what happened.”

“Tonight?”

“From the start.”

Kastiel blinked, assessing the Queen of Te—Aelin. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to answer. He cleared his throat. “I can probably show you better than I can tell you.”

Aelin’s brows drew together before she reached her hand out expectantly.

“You might want to sit first,” he said.

To Kastiel’s surprise, Aelin dropped her hand and sat.

He sat up straighter, focusing his powers on the task at hand. He reached over with his Daemati powers and snaked through the wall of Aelin’s mind. It was surprisingly serene inside, despite the high mountainous walls protecting her mind. There was a calmness in there that Kastiel would have never guessed from such a fiery Queen. “You have to relax,” Kastiel said, “and open your mind.”

The images of Seraphine falling from a black pit in the sky came into view. It was Kastiel’s first memory of his mate—Seraphine all bloodied, falling and falling, with her silver hair like wildfire. She had been hurt badly. Kastiel couldn’t stop the shaky feeling he felt after pulling the arrow with the strange marking out of her wound. Then images of the Suriel appeared along with the tattoo of the moon stained in red after he struck the bargain that completely healed Seraphine—only for her to combust into the fire in his hands. More memories passed before Kastiel showed Aelin the moment when Seraphine accepted the mating bond at the balcony in the House of Mist—just the innocent, tender kiss they shared, his heart now breaking at the thought that Seraphine was not with him now. Just as the images of Kastiel dropping the blood red ruby in front of Amren appeared, he hesitated, before allowing his memories to flow continuously.

Aelin gasped.

The Salt Mines of Endovier, the night when Kastiel finally laid his eyes on the red marks of Seraphine’s whippings, the feeling he had when he saw them, and how helpless, how worthless he felt when he knew he let that happen.

Then came the Thirteen arriving to help, their journey to Terrasen, how they felt when no one was there except for mutilated creatures.

The Valg, Fenrys, the maze.

Their arrival in Rifthold, the fight he had with his mate, the night of the ball, Seraphine kissing Fenrys—how Kastiel’s whole world was slipping under him, how the love of his life was choosing someone else, and how he let her. He let her go again without fighting for her. The look in Fenrys’ eyes—like black pits—when he claimed Seraphine in front of him, and finally Seraphine’s last words to him.

_ Don’t _

Kastiel withdrew from the Queen of Terrasen’s mind, and she blinked, gasping for air, tears running down her face. He shared a look with Aelin—his mate’s mother—turquoise eyes with a ring of gold.

“Are you alright, Aelin?” Dorian asked beside him. “What did you see?”

Aelin took a moment to compose herself, wiping the tears staining her cheeks before she looked around at everyone sitting—her breathing hard. “The circle is closing,” she said to no one in particular. “The eclipse will be soon.”

Manon’s eyes went wide. “But how did this happen?”

“The glamour that we placed—” Dorian began to say before the wind rattled the windowpane beside them.

Kastiel couldn’t stop the surprise in his face as clear phantom hands, visible only through the presence of pure magic, reached over and opened the window.

A White Tailed Hawk swooped in before a flash of white erupted.

Rowan walked over to the group, kissing the top of Aelin’s head as he said, “nothing, I couldn’t find them.”

“It doesn’t matter—Fenrys has got her—I know where they’re headed.”

“Then we should go now,” Manon interrupted.

Aelin ignored the witch and turned to Kastiel.

“Seraphine has always been an amazing fire wielder,” she began, “but then we learned of a prophecy. A strange marking, a blood red ruby, an eclipse. At first, we didn’t know what it was. All we knew was that a circle is forming with that prophecy. Though now Kastiel, we understand what that prophecy is.”

He braced himself from Aelin’s next words.

“A strange marking of the arrow that shot into Seraphine, before she fell through the wyrdgate, only for you to find her, to strike the bargain with the Suriel. It saved Seraphine’s life and broke the hold Rowan and I placed on our daughter. The blood red ruby, the lengths you would have gone through to bring Seraphine back, to travel through a portal just to tell our daughter the truth, that you loved her. Only for you to save her again.”

“And the eclipse?”

“It is the night that the wyrdgate will be opened, the night that the circle will close, the night the Valg will use Seraphine to break the forge that I created.”

“The prophecy,” Manon said as realisation dawned on everyone, “wasn’t just for Seraphine. It was for you too, Kastiel. The times when you’ve set your life aside to put her first—your mate—and it will be tested again.”

*****

Aures watched the Prince of the Night go white with realisation.

Manon stood up from her seat, breaking the silence, “I’ll get the wyverns ready.”

Aures watched as her father pinned her mother with a hard look—and just like that, the all powerful Crochan Queen sat back in her seat with a huff.

Aures rolled her eyes.

“We can’t just waltz into wherever we’re going without a plan, my Queen,” he said to her gently. “We’re all too precious to lose our lives.”

“The King of Adarlan is right,” the Fae with the weird shadows said. This was probably the first time Aures heard him speak. “We need to asses our enemies, figure out where they are keeping Seraphine, and extract her as quickly as possible without any casualties.”

The King of Terrasen gave the shadowy Fae a glance, assessing the warrior body, the scars on his hands and the large wings tucked behind his back. He nodded approvingly, “they’re right, Aelin. We need a plan—one that everyone knows about.”

They share a secret smile.

“We’re going back to Terrasen. We’re getting Seraphine back, and we’re going to do it before the eclipse.”

Aures suppressed a groan. This conversation was going nowhere fast. “This is great and all,” she said, placing her goblet down for the first time, “but what about Fenrys?”

All heads turned to her, they’re expressions bleak, they’re mouths set in a firm line.

“A Valg has possessed him, Aures,” her father whispered, placing his warm hands on top of hers. “I—out of everyone here—knows how hard it is to keep yourself present when a Valg inhibits your body. We’ll do whatever we can to save him.”

“That’s not enough, Father,” Aures rose from her chair. “You have to save him.”

When nobody spoke, the sound of Aures’ chair scraping the marbled flooring echoed in the room.

She stood and walked out without a second glance.


	11. Chapter 11

The sun slowly rose behind Kastiel as he sat on top of the roof of Rifthold’s castle. He had been there ever since the meeting with the Kings and Queens of Adarlan and Terrasen. Part of the reason why he came here was to clear his mind. There were so many things weighing heavily on him, yet he couldn’t find the words to share them with anyone. He simply couldn’t come to terms with saying them out loud.

Azriel had been trying to meet his eyes since the meeting, but Kastiel wasn’t ready to talk. Out of anyone, he knew his Uncle would understand. Azriel eventually gave him space and time to sort out his problems.

Now, Kastiel watched the commotion down below as everyone prepared their wyverns for the journey back to Terrasen. He didn’t know what was ahead of them, only that he needed Seraphine next to him, alive and well, and for Fenrys to—he stopped that thought.

Kastiel didn’t know what he wanted to happen to the blonde haired Fae.

The rage inside of him was strong and powerful—though it was also blind to the truth. The fact that Seraphine had stopped Kastiel from killing Fenrys before made him question everything.

Why? Why would she do that if she didn’t know that she could take Fenrys on?

But her withered face, the power, and fire leaving her as Fenrys sucked her strength away—Kastiel shook his head. He couldn’t understand why she would jeopardise her life like this. Hadn’t she considered him in all of this?

A flutter of wings caught Kastiel’s attention.

He looked just in time to see Rowan appear before him in his Fae form. Instead of a finely dressed tunic, he now wore green and silver leathered armour with straps and straps of weapons all over him—mirroring exactly what Kastiel wore now.

“Terrasen colours suit you,” Rowan said by way of greeting. He plopped himself down next to Kastiel, overlooking the people down below.

Aelin was now stuffing food into the satchels beside the wyverns, her hair in a long plat behind her. Instead of the green and silver leathered armour, she wore a black one piece, with no visible weapons.

Kastiel knew the Queen of Terrasen didn’t need them.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asked, “who you were before?”

Rowan shrugged as he pulled out a flask behind him. He ignored Kastiel’s question, offering instead, the silver flask in his hands. “Do you want some?”

Kastiel took the flask and downed the drink. He welcomed the burning taste in his mouth.

“I think I learned more about you in those moments as a stranger than as Seraphine’s father,” Rowan eventually said.

“I think I did too.”

They were both quiet again, the only sound being the flask shared between them.

“Kastiel, are you still lost?”

“I don’t think I was ever lost. I was a fool to ignore what my heart was telling me, and choosing instead to believe what my eyes could see.”

Rowan laughed. “This is the second time now that I’ve you in such a state—yet here you are—rising above it as quickly as no one I’d seen before. It took me nearly 300 years to even understand what you’ve said so well. You know what got me through it?”

“Your love for Aelin?”

“No, love is never just enough in these times. You have to trust them—your other half—that what they are doing is for you too. I know Seraphine would fight to stay alive, just so she could be with you. It was the same for us, Aelin fighting for me, for her friends, to stay alive. So that we were here now.”

At the sound of her name, Aelin looked up from where she was standing. She crossed her arms at them. “Are you two drinking up there?” Aelin shouted below, her voice sounding exasperated. “Why didn’t you buzzards invite me?” 

*****

“Kastiel,” someone said behind him.

He turned as Aures approached. Her golden eyes were set determinedly.

“Do you remember the wydmarks on the floor of the room I brought you?”

He nodded.

“That was Fenrys’ writing—that was his room.”

A statement, not a question. He nodded again.

“I found something in there, after looking again.”

She handed him a small tattered old book, with strange writing he couldn’t decipher. Though he knew what they were. “A book on wyrdmarks,” he said.

“Yes, he’d been practicing. The wyrdgate he was drawing, he explained it in the book.”

“What was it?”

“It was a portal to send Seraphine to a different place.”

Kastiel looked up from the book he held between his hands, to her creased eyes. “Where?”

“Velaris. He was going to send her there—to save her, to spare her—I don’t know. All I know is that he’s still in there, I can feel it, Kastiel. You have to save him, promise me.”

*****

“You’re going to need this,” Rowan said.

Kastiel looked up just in time to catch the sword in the air by the hilt. “What is it?”

“She’s yours—to accompany you through your battles.”

“I’ve got a sword.”

“Well, now you have two.”

He looked down at the long sharp blade glistening in the early morning light. It had a magnificent gold hilt that was moulded into a head of a stag. He arced it in front of him, it’s weight so perfectly balanced that Kastiel let slip a small smile. “It’s beautiful, Rowan.”

“Solis—that’s her name.”

Kastiel unsheathed his own sword from his hip, bringing it up next to the one already in his right hand. He twirled the blades around beside them, before bringing them across each other to make an ‘x’. One was gold, the other as dark as the night—a wicked obsidian blade given by his father. “Solis and Noctis,” he said out loud—his own twin swords from two different worlds.

Kastiel met Rowan’s determined pine green gaze, pinning him to the spot.

“Let’s get our girl back,” he said as he transformed into his Hawk form.

*****

This was her worst nightmare. Fenrys hauled her by the arm, her limbs uselessly moving beside her similarly to her days at Endovier. Seraphine refused to become what she had been then—useless, weak and hopeless. That wasn’t her now. She was determined—she had a plan—but she also hadn’t slept for what felt like days, weeks, months. Seraphine dragged her weight onto Fenrys. She would give anything to stop and rest her head on the dusty ground.

Her eyes were so heavy from lack of sleep that she hadn’t even noticed the scent of pine and snow. She raised her head up, only to find the distance opening up to reveal the towering, stone castle walls of Orynth—Terrasen’s capital— _ her home _ .

The creature that was not Fenrys strutted through the cobblestoned streets of her city, it’s empty shops from her last visit now filled with occupants. Though they were not human nor the Fae.

Even in her delirious state, she could make out the inhuman shapes of the creatures, their black bodies almost like a void of strange nothing standing beside her. Everything about them was wrong, wrong, wrong. She had to blink twice at the constant thrum of her head, joining in with the heavy beat of her heart. This was real—what she was seeing.

Not just a play on her mind. Not just a ripple in the wind.

They were Valg—real Valg—all standing beside the cobblestoned streets watching on as Fenrys dragged her up and up the slope towards the silver stoned walls of her castle. Once, there was greenery surrounding all of its’ front facing façades, though now, the green had turned to brown.

Life here had withered and gave room to breed the Valg.

There were hundreds, if not thousands of them, watching on as if she were the grand parade on a festive day.

The Valg cheered and cheered, spears and swords and all different types of weapons being beaten to the thrum of her head—her heart.

It didn’t stop until Fenrys opened the door into the castle of Orynth.

*****

“You need to rest.”

“I’m fine, Uncle.”

“Kastiel—I’ve been flying for nearly five-hundred years. I know my limits and I can tell that you have reached yours.”

“I’m fine,” Kastiel said again, his wings never missing a beat through the early morning breeze. Despite Azriel’s true words, he was determined to get to Terrasen, to get to Orynth, to get to his mate. He didn’t need to rest or waste any precious time. What he needed was to find her. What he needed was to—

Aelin covered his vision, her wyvern flying right beside his. “I need to show you something.”

“What is it?”

“Before Aures mentioned the Circle. I want you to understand it, Kastiel.” Aelin’s brows furrowed, “when you showed me those images in your mind through your magic, does it work the other way around?”

“Yes, I can read your mind but—”

She raised one perfectly arched brow.

“It takes a lot of concentration—for your mind not to wonder when you let me in. I’m not fond of doing it. When you open up your mind to me, I can read everything, see everything, know everything about you.”

“You wouldn’t want to get to know me?”

His mouth tilted up at the corners, “Aelin, I mean no offense, but maybe not that much.”

“Then I will focus—only the important memories.”

A White Tailed Hawk squawked beside them.

“I can focus perfectly fine, you buzzard,” Aelin said, rolling her eyes. “Please feel free to ignore my husband. Now, the Circle—let me show you.”

She nodded, allowing Kastiel to enter the Queen of Terrasen, Aelin, Seraphine’s mother’s mind.

The first images he laid his eyes on made his body lock up. It was picks and axes and slaves and mines. Endovier. Though it wasn’t as he remembered it since the last time he was there. The mines were bigger, slaves littered the place, their eyes hollow, their bones sticking out of their skin. From the eyes of Aelin, understanding dawned on him—she too was a slave.

Aelin a slave at Endovier.

It couldn’t be.

He couldn’t see her face, her notable features of blonde hair with the turquoise eyes with the ring of gold, though he remembered Seraphine’s—her gaunt face, the light in her eyes dulled, empty, and Gods, the red angry marks on her back from the whippings—but he knew Aelin was not better off herself. Before he could process what this meant, the images changed to her surrounded by grey cobblestone. He felt the rapid beat of her pulse, like a roaring filling his ears as she was about to choose fight over flight. He felt the strain of her heart—aching for this moment—for the person she was willing to save. Aelin jumped through a black hole in front of her, only now Kastiel knew it was a Wyrdgate, its sides rippling as she jumped, her skin ripping away, her head screaming save them, save them, save them. Two names echoed in her head— _ his  _ head—Chaol and Fleetfoot.

The images changed again to black, obsidian towers crumbling to the ground, the impact of it making Aelin—making him—clench his teeth, before the darkness faded away into a clearing of open green fields.

Kastiel had never felt fire in his hands before. This wasn’t just fire—it was an inferno between his fingers, barely contained by Aelin’s mind. Her power, what she can wield was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was alive, wild and constant in her mind. Kastiel could feel it now, her loss of control, the intensity of her powers overwhelming her, telling her that she couldn’t handle it, until the presence of a Fae warrior entered her vision. But this Rowan was different, his long hair swaying in the breeze, so identical to his mate’s flowing silver hair.

“Control it Aelin,” he said just as fiercely as he looked.

Her defiance coated Kastiel’s tongue, her stubbornness to prove this Fae warrior wrong, that yes, she could control her powers, let me show you she shouted before a thought struck Kastiel. She would love to cut all that hair off—and then it was—in another memory, Rowan was slaying the Valg all around him, his sword coated in the black blood of the creature. His view of the fight was strange as if he was laying down, his head resting on the blood soaked ground. She looked down at her hands—small, fragile, covered in scars and shackled in iron. Her fire couldn’t get through it fast enough, before claws grabbed her by her bound hands and dragged, dragged, dragged, her vision of Rowan disappearing in the distance.

Aelin screamed, her voice lost in amongst the fighting until Rowan was back, in another memory where he stood, his hands clasping hers as she—and someone else—held something glowing in their hands.

The face of the King of Adarlan suddenly appeared—and with it, a strange memory within a memory, the words simple and clear in her mind, in Kastiel’s mind.

_ Witch Killer—the human is still inside him. _

Kastiel’s mind slipped away to the present.

Aelin—the present day Queen of Terrasen—looked at him contemplatively, their wyverns continuing to fly in sync side by side.

His eyes met hers. “The Circle—it’s your life.”

“Yes”

“Endovier, restoring your powers, getting your fire back and finding your mate, those are the things that have already happened.”

“Yes.”

“And now Seraphine is with the Valg Prince and she’s—” Kastiel took a shaky breath in, “she’s going to try and save Fenrys.”

“Yes.”

“The battle with the Valg, it’s going to happen to us now. Seraphine will be sacrificed to break the lock you forged that day when the Circle closes.”

Aelin pinned him to the spot. “Anything, Kastiel,” she whispered. “You will do anything for my daughter. Do you understand?”

He met her eyes again—a raging fire of blue and gold—and he knew that now it was his turn to say yes.


	12. Chapter 12

The clouds once again covered the sky, making a perfect backdrop for the night. Despite barely having slept a wink, Kastiel was more than ready to get this over and done with. He hated to admit that the smell of her hair, the features of her face were blurred with his memories of her with Fenrys. That was not the Seraphine he knew. He was determined to find her and help her. She didn’t need saving.

“You know the plan,” Aelin addressed the group of Fae and witches, “Manon and Dorian will scout the city, Azriel and I will surround the perimeter of the castle, whilst Rowan and Kastiel will find Seraphine and get her out of there. Asterin will be on the lookout—you know what to do.”

Asterin nodded, her determination clear on her face.

“What about that little complication you forgot to mention?” Manon asked, her red lips curving up into a wicked grin.

“I’ll take care of him,” Kastiel said.

“Well, that settles that.”

Dorian chuckled, “can’t always get whatever you want Witchling.”

Kastiel cringed at the growl that came out of the Queen of Adarlan’s iron teethed mouth. He would never want to be on the receiving end of that.

A silence settled over the group as their wyverns flew closer and closer towards the Staghorn Mountains. Kastiel was ready, his wings feeling more alive, more hungry with each new beat. The Hawk beside him let out a loud and mighty squawk, and Kastiel felt then, the air surging him forward and forward towards the outskirts of the dark city. The glamour that the King of Adarlan had mentioned before had gone, leaving the uninhabited city looking as if it were just an abandoned piece of land. If he hadn’t already set foot down below, he would have thought nothing of the place. It was eerily quiet.

“Something’s wro—”

Azriel winnowed in front of an arrow headed towards Manon’s wyvern and flicked it off with his sword, the loud clang echoing in the night, springing the group into action.

Lights started flickering on one by one down below as lit up arrows, too many for Kastiel to count, headed their way. Aelin’s wyvern cut across the group, her arms arching in the air as her fire lit up the sky, burning through the arrows headed their way. It disintegrated in the sky, the ash flying all around them like confetti.

“It’s the Valg,” Dorian said incredulously, “but there’s so many of them.”

Kastiel couldn’t believe his eyes. The King of Adarlan was right. There were so many Valg creatures down below that they were like a swarm of black matter moving about as one. And to think—his mate was down there somewhere.

“We’re too vulnerable in the sky,” Azriel ordered, “we need to la—”

“We need to fall back,” Dorian cut in. “Aelin, this was not what we planned for.”

Aelin turned to look back, her eyes now golden, like a dragon spewing fire. “We can take care of this!”

“No Aelin, listen to me, this is what they want to happen. It will be an ambush, it will be a trap we can’t do this.”

“The King of Adarlan is right,” Azriel said as he continued to block fire arrow after fire arrow with his sword. “We’re not prepared for a battle—this was only supposed to be a rescue mission.”

“No, my daughter—”

Kastiel couldn’t bare the anguish in her words, the rawness of her pleading made him realise that the promise he made to her was now due. “ _ Anything _ .”

“NO KASTIEL!” he heard his Uncle shout before he winnowed into the night.

*****

He emerged inside the foyer of the castle, not wasting any time to unsheathe his twin blades, Solis and Noctis from his back with a ringing sound of release. The Valg screeched at the sight of him, his green and silver fighting leathers contrasting the dark ripples surrounding him on all sides.

He stood in a stance, his eyes roving all around him, as the Valg creature circled Kastiel, assessing their prey.

All of a sudden, a Valg jumped from the stairs atop him, it’s inhuman cry loud in his ears as he brought his twin swords up to block the creature’s incoming claws. Kastiel sliced the Valg in half, before twisting around to deflect another attack from three incoming Valgs. Two of them came at him from either side, their claws slicing through the air. Kastiel ducked and slid back before parrying both their strikes with each blade. Their heads thudded to the ground. He felt like he could do this all night long—fighting off the Valg until every last one of their heads rolled on the floor. But he was in a hurry—he didn’t have time to waste.

As Kastiel made his way towards the top of the stairs, the mating bond urged him forward, telling him yes, she’s here, she’s waiting for you, get to her now. But there were way too many Valg littering the stairs, blocking his way towards his mate and disabling him from winnowing out. He needed to come up with an idea fast.

Summoning his powers, Kastiel brought a wave of water down from the tops of the stairs, resulting in a wave of drowning, screeching Valg.

“Why didn’t I do that earlier,” he mumbled to himself as he wasted no time winnowing up the stairs, his whole body succumbing to the pull of the mating bond to lead him to where he needed to be.

More Valg emerged in front of him. He let out a curse, as his eyes roamed from the hallway towards two closed grand doors. His head thrummed as if a beat of the drums reverberated from the inside of the doors.

It chanted she’s here, she’s here, she’s here.

Kastiel let the Valg attack him first, before dodging up and flipping in the air to land behind them. Water spurted from his hands, gathering the group of Valg into a ball. It encapsulated them, their bodies waving around in the water as it raised up into the air. He fisted his outstretched hand, closing his fingers tightly together as the ball of water closed around the Valg, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until the white-blue ball turned to black.

He threw the ball in the air, smacking it towards the giant double doors, black blood and water spilling on the floor as he stepped foot into the Castle of Terrasen’s throne room.

Kastiel’s eyes zeroed in on Fenrys who sat on a grand throne, it’s back designed similarly to the golden stag on his sword.

“Ah, Kastiel,” the voice that was not Fenrys said, “what took you so long?”

“Where is she?”

“All you Royal Fae are so demanding!”

A killing calm settled over Kastiel. He should do it—he should kill this thing that has taken over Fenrys right now. But he was confused, the mating bond telling him that she was here, his mate was here right now, in this room with them.

Kastiel’s eyes went wide.

“Finally!” Fenrys belted out as he patted the dark casket leaning on another throne beside him. “The Princess of Terrasen wouldn’t want to miss this.”

*****

Aures didn’t have a choice. Well, she did—but she was ready to take this on—she knew she was. Whatever was going to happen now, it didn’t matter to her, so long as she was there.

She saddled onto her wyvern, a heavy weight in her pocket, and flew into the sky.

*****

A deafening rupture shook the room, debris falling over Kastiel and the screeching Valg surrounding him as they lowered their weapons. Despite the thrum of battle outside, his eyes never strayed from the casket standing straight beside Fenrys. Despite the mating bond he shared with Seraphine, he could not reach her through the bond. Kastiel gripped Solis and Noctis tighter in his hands, his mind going through all of the details in the room—the marble flooring, the silver and white banners, the stag sculpted throne—everything standing in the way between himself and his mate.

Fenrys looked away from the open arched windows and motioned his arms to quiet the Valg. “It seems you’ve brought some friends,” he sneered.

Kastiel bathed in the killing calm. “I’ll give you one chance,” he said evenly, “to let go of Seraphine.”

The Valg Prince inhibiting Fenrys’ mind studied him up and down, his black eyes settling on Solis. His mouth reached up at the corners as he said, “but what’s in it for me?”

He turned his back towards Kastiel.

Big mistake.

Kastiel reached for his powers to catch Fenrys by surprise and submit him into a hold. Nothing. His brows furrowed—he had never felt the bottomless pit of his powers to be hollowed like this. He was certain it was still there, though the only thing resonating with him was the otherworldly sensation of the Valg. He took one step forward and they instantly surrounded him—weapons in their hands—aimed at his throat, his chest, his wings.

Fenrys chuckled, his back still to him. “I wouldn’t make it that easy for you.”

Kastiel’s heart hammered in his chest. He could only watch as Fenrys stood in front of the black casket and slowly ran a finger from one end of the lid to the other. The sudden rattle of the casket undid something in him. “Please,” he pleaded, all the fight leaving him.

“Do you want to see her?”

“Just let her go.”

“We both know I can’t just do that,” he practically purred with a smile as he continued to painfully caress the vessel that could only hold what Kastiel dreaded. 

Sweat coated his upper lip as he fought the hold encasing itself on his magic. All he needed was to winnow towards them, grab her, and get the hell out of there.

Fenrys turned to look at him, the angle revealing a strange black collar surrounding his neck. His hand now grasping the lid trapping Seraphine. The intensity of his gaze was nothing like Kastiel had ever seen. He rejoiced in this—the pain and torture—but it was more than that. He was sure of it. This was personal. This was to spite him.

Slowly, slowly, the lid opened as Fenrys’ smile grew wider and wider.

Kastiel growled loudly, ferociously, a promise. “I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.”

“Is that a challenge?”

He couldn’t see or hear or sense anything else other than his mate standing in front of him. Her long silver hair was plastered on her face as she blinked at him, not realising who was in front of her. Even if she did understand, she didn’t have the ability to speak. Iron chains wrapped themselves around her. They snaked through the husk of her body like smoke—wrapping itself around her heck, her chest, her waist, around her arms and legs and over her hands. He took note of her matching set of tunic and pants and the thought of anyone touching her to change her clothes boiled his blood.

When she finally looked at him—really looked at him—Kastiel nearly buckled.

“What have you done?”

Fenrys didn’t answer.

Without thinking, Kastiel lunged and punched him square in the jaw, the impact rattling his knuckles up to his arm. “You’re killing her,” he shouted before the Valg grabbed him and roughly held him down to his knees on the cold hard floor.

Fenrys spat out the blackish blood. He ran his fingers along his jaw. “It’s nothing she can’t handle.”

“You’re a Cauldron damned idiot if you can’t see it!” his voice broke at every word. “You’re emptying her out, you're sucking her life away! For what? To fuel your own powers? To submit her to you?” He could have sworn Fenrys hesitated at the words as his eyes looked towards Seraphine.

“Fenrys, I know you’re in there. Listen to me!” he was getting more and more desperate. The Valg holding him down pressed their swords at his throat as he reached towards Fenrys. This might be his only chance to get through to him. “She’s not going to survive it. To break the lock, she has to be sacrificed.”

When he turned back around, the Valg creature inhibiting his body shone through in his black, depthless eyes. “Don’t toy with me. You and I both know why Seraphine is here.”

“She’s here because she believed she could save you from yourself.”

“Then she’s a fool. Fenrys is gone.”

They both turned at the sound of chains rattling.

Seraphine struggled in her hold. She looked so small, almost as if nothing was between the iron chains. Her defiance—her stubbornness—his eyes prickled at the corners.  _ Trust me, _ she still said with her eyes, but Kastiel had had enough. He had let this happen again and again, and now here they were, trapped with no other options, her in iron chains, and him surrounded by swords held by the Valg with no lick of power. For all they knew, Fenrys could be gone. He could have let go. Unless— “I’ll make you a bargain.”

Fenrys raised his brow, “A bargain?”

“A magical bargain.”

“I’m listening.”

“A fight to the death.”

“And the winner?”

“Seraphine.”

A loud chuckle filled the room, “I already own her, Prince of the Night.”

“With me still alive? Are you sure?” Kastiel matched his wicked smile, but deep in his bones, it was all an act. “Afraid you can’t beat me?”

Fenrys’ face suddenly got serious.

“I suppose I have beaten you before,” Kastiel pressed on.

In a blink of an eye, Fenrys lunged and snarled at Kastiel, his hand now holding the most important thing in Kastiel’s world. “I don’t think so,” he said between clenched teeth. He squeezed, resulting in a choking sound from Seraphine. She hung from the ground, unable to speak, as the iron chains clinked at her feet.

Kastiel struggled between the swords pointed his way. She was right there, she was so close. Her eyes were wide, the smell of her fear, mixing with his, coating his tongue. 

“Don’t forget,” Fenrys breathed, “that I’m in charge here—I make the rules.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Then it’s a deal.”

*****

The Witchling flew as fast as she could, pushing her wyvern to her limit as they soared together through open skies of burnt pink and orange. She had been flying through the night without any rest, but she knew she was nearly there. She didn’t want to waste time. Her eyes roamed both up ahead and down below until she saw what she was looking for.

“That’s not Lysa you’re riding is it?”

His Ashryver eyes went wide at the sight of her. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

“I’m really not surprised she’s still carrying your behind after all these centuries.”

Aedion made a grab for her dangling legs, trying to pull her down playfully as they rode on at full speed. One on top of a wyvern—the other on horseback.

She squealed as his hand made contact with her foot. Her legs thrashed about, causing his grip to slip.

“Stop messing around little witch,” he said, suddenly serious. “Our family is in danger.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here. I didn’t want to miss the action!”

“Aures, this isn’t an adventure—this is very serious and dangerous. We don’t need little witch princesses running around to worry about as well.”

She refused to sulk. “But I have something very valuable and very very impo—”

“Ok, just hold it right there,” he cut in. “You’re up to no good.”

“Yes, so you should—”

“Your mother is already going to skin me alive with her iron nails. With you—the less I know, the better.”

“Exactly! That’s why you should let me co—” Aures backtracked, as she processed his words. “Wait, wait, wait. So you’re letting me come?”

Aedion didn’t reply.

She flashed her iron teeth at him, giddy with excitement. Finally, finally, thank the Gods for this moment. She couldn’t help herself as she flew even lower so that her wyvern could hook herself onto his shoulders.

Without missing a beat, Aedion swung himself up onto the saddle behind her with ease.

“You needed to lose the horse anyways. I see travelers up ahead.”

He grunted in reply.

“Gee, thanks Aures, you’re such a lifesaver,” she mocked him in a deep voice.

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, resulting in a small squeal from her. “Will you ever take anything seriously?”

“Aedion, she’s fine. Besides, I’m here for Fenrys.” She was greeted again with no reply. When the quietness stretched on for longer than she was comfortable with, Aures pouted her lips. “Where is Lysa anyways?”

“She’s up ahead.”

She lifted her brow in surprise.

“We’re about to catch up.”

And sure enough, when the trees and leaves cleared down below to show the path on the ground, a ghost leopard, a dark wolf, and a lion sprinted beside each other.

“By the Gods, could our family get any weirder?” She whistled. “I mean just look at them, we’re going to look like a bunch of circu—”

Aedion suddenly grabbed the reigns from her hands and pulled back, her wyvern crying out in protest as she fell backward onto his chest. Before she could reprimand him for being so careless, her mouth fell open. The thrum of her heart echoed in her head as she asked, “please tell me you see that too?” 

He stared in horror. “By the Gods,” he whispered.

Aures had been at the City of Orynth plenty of times. It’s white and green background was constant in her mind whenever she thought of Terrasen’s capital. Though now, it was practically unrecognisable. Even in the distance, the city was covered in shadow. It was moving. It was alive. She couldn’t see her parents, but she could clearly see Aelin. The Queen of Terrasen was practically on fire as she blasted creature after creature around her. Not far from the Queen was Rowan, his sword slicing and dicing in front of him. It was beautiful, how they knew each other’s moves before they even did it. They were both strong—equal in strength—and greater together, but it was obvious, even to her. They weren’t winning. The dark creatures outnumbered them. When one fell, three more replaced its way.

They were two Fae in an ocean of darkness.

“We need to get down there.” Aedion. He sounded so far away.

This was new to her—all these things that were happening now. She hated to admit that all her life, she was protected and kept safe. How quickly things change. Now, for the first time, she felt like she could finally show everyone what she was capable of.

Without taking her eyes off the distance, she took the little tattered book out of her pocket. “So, now do you want to listen to my very very important plan or what?”

*****

Nothing about this was to Kastiel’s advantage. The keen, ravaged look in Fenrys’ eyes told him that. The yearning look in Seraphine’s, as she was guarded by two Valgs, chained on her Mother’s throne, made the point loud and clear.

There was no chance of him winning.

More Valg creatures surrounded him, creating an impenetrable boundary. They parted as Fenrys stepped into the circle, gripping a mighty onyx blade in his hands. He kicked Solis and Noctis towards him.

“You’re going to need those,” he said. “Now stand.”

Kastiel snatched them up quickly and did as he was told. A small relief settling over him as he twirled the twin swords in the air. His eyes assessed Fenrys’ every step and every look.

Without hesitating, he advanced first, his twin swords swinging parallel across Fenrys’ throat. His blades met steel with a loud clang, the impact rattling his bones.

The crowd cheered around them.

Fenrys pivoted around and slashed across his body. 

Out of instinct, his wings flared behind him as he dodged the strike.

A vicious snarl echoed in his ears. “You’ve got wings. That’s not fair.”

Kastiel acted fast—but not fast enough. He barely sidestepped, his mouth opening in a silent scream, as Fenrys winnowed—actually  _ winnowed _ —behind him, the true edge of hid opponent’s sword nicking his wing. He stumbled back, falling on his knee in surprise, as the sword swung down past him and onto the marble stoned flooring, cracking it with a loud crunch.

Before he could get back on his feet, Fenrys leaped, his sword lifting up in the air as he turned to mist and shadow, only to reappear up above Kastiel. The onyx blade arched down towards him. The crowd collectively groaned as Kastiel raised Solis and Noctis up in an ‘x’ to block Fenrys’ strike. It shouldn’t have been possible for his swords to withstand the impact, but it was as if his father and Rowan were right there with him to lend their strength with the swords.

“Listen to me,” he grunted as he held down the force of his opponent’s blade. “Fight back. I know you’re in there. You need to fight back.”

Fenrys answered with another swing of his sword, this time Kastiel was too slow to react. The force of his onyx blade as it sliced through Kastiel’s left shoulder was ferocious. He lost his footing again, his senses dizzy with the amount of power rippling out of Fenrys.

It was suddenly silent around them, the only sound the echo of his blood dripping on the floor. 

“You surprise me, Kastiel,” he said with a laugh. “I thought you were better than this.”

He ignored the pain, the hopelessness creeping over him, the rattling sounds of iron chains in the distance. “If you let this creature win—if you let him take control of you—he will kill her. Do you understand?”

No flicker of recognition. No flicker of emotion. Nothing.

Kastiel grunted in frustration—he didn’t know how to win a fight he was not supposed to win in the first place. Even when he swore he wouldn’t, he allowed himself to look past Fenrys towards Seraphine. What he saw nearly made him drop his swords. “You’re feeding off of her.” She was deathly hollow and pale. Just bones and skin of a girl who had livid fire in her eyes. But now, they were dulled and slowly fading away.

“She’s going to die anyway.”

Kastiel attacked Fenrys with a roar. The way Solis and Noctis twirled in his hands were messy and chaotic. Nothing about it was elegant or calculated. All he wanted was to hurt Fenrys, but his onyx blade blocked every strike with full force. A slice here, a nick there, a lucky jab in the gut. None of his attacks could even penetrate Fenrys’ defenses. He was practically glowing in power. Behind him, Seraphine dulled in strength.

“Stop it!” he didn’t even bother to restrain the panic in his voice. “ _ Please.  _ Don’t do this. I need her.”

Fenrys shrugged, but the movement was strained. “Then kill me,” he said. “That was the bargain.”

Kastiel closed his eyes. It wasn’t that easy. But Seraphine’s words echoed in his head.  _ Trust me _ she said. He drowned himself in that voice, surrounded himself with the warmth and familiarity of her—the softness of her hair between his fingers, the kisses in the dark, the way her powers called to him. Despite everything, he still did. He still does. She was his equal, in strength and power and everything else in between the moon and the night. He kept his eyes closed as he parried Fenrys’ attack.

Sweat and blood dripped down his face, his heart beating hard.

Fenrys pulled back and swiped again.

This time, it was a perfect parry. Fenrys’ onyx sword clattered on the marble floor. Wasting no time, he used Noctis’ pommel and drove it into Fenrys’ gut, before pivoting around to rest Solis’ sharp blade onto his throat, just below the black collar.

The Valg leered towards him, their faces contorted in anger.

Kastiel dug Solis deeper, drawing blood that almost looks black. “Take one more step,” he commanded the Valg, “and I’ll slit his throat.”

They hissed at him as he took a step back, back, back, out of the circle of the Valg creatures and towards Seraphine. He forced Fenrys’ body to face her.

“Look at her,” he growled. “She believed in you. She was here to save you.”

*****

He didn’t know this person in front of him. Hell, he didn’t even know his name.

But he recognised the flooring, the green and silver banners above him, the Throne of Orynth.

His name.

Fenrys.

And her.

Sera.

Images of her, one by one, flooded his mind, his senses. It was an overload of memories that he could only watch, yet could not control as they happened. It crushed him, this feeling because he did, he does, he always will in some way or another.

He loved her.

He still does.

And she was dying.

And it was his fault.

He didn’t truly love her if he had let this happen.

The thought of the marks on her back, the night at Rifthold, how he sucked her energy dry to feed the creature inside of him and how he did nothing, nothing, nothing. It undid a part of him. He blamed himself for it. But this newfound rage was something else. It woke him up. It showed him the truth.

The demon inside him was screaming and pleading, ripping at him, trying to bargain as Kastiel had.

_ Kastiel. _

A Fae boy so strong.

Sera.

Equally just as strong.

And him.

But with what?

_ Nothing _ , a voice echoed in his ears.  _ You are nothing. Nothing at all. _

Fenrys blinked. Once. Twice.

But he wasn’t nothing.

Nothing was not what he was.

He too is strong.

The words echoed even louder in his ears, crescendoing inside his head like a ragging bull until it built and built and built.

He lifted his hands to the Wyrdstone collar—cold, smooth, thrumming—and gripped the black stone encircling his throat.

And bellowing his grief, his rage, his pain, he snapped the collar from his throat and unchained the woman he loved.


	13. Chapter 13

The obsidian collar shattered to pieces in front of her, bouncing and rolling on the dismantled, marbled floor. For a beat, the room was deathly quiet, save for the last obsidian segment tumbling towards her bare feet. The moment it stopped just before her, the sound of clashing metal and grunts filled the room.

Seraphine couldn’t focus. She stared at the black rock with intent, its jagged edges as sharp as any steel sword.

A wave of emotion came over her, just as the whole room quaked from a nearby force. Her head spun.

Sweat coated her brow.

Uncontrollably, her hands began to shake. Fatigue and weariness settled on her like a second skin. Despite being freed from those cursed, iron chains, something else entirely replaced its wake. She did not want to admit how empty she felt at that moment.

Seraphine fought against the urge to curve her body and tuck her knees against her chest. She wanted to scream that it was just a stupid, ugly rock. No more had it held power over her.

For she was the Princess of Orynth.

This was her home—and this—her rightful throne.

Seraphine closed her eyes, her nails digging into the carved armrests.

A sudden gush of childhood memories filled her mind. The times when she would hide behind the Orynth banner decorating the walls, as her Uncle Aedion prowled the rooms, trying to find her during their daily game of hide and seek. The times when her father sat on his mighty throne with her in his arms. Or the times when her mother would counsel her for allowing herself to be picked on by Orynth boys without fighting back. Her mother would then teach her fighting moves no young child should learn at the tender age of eight. Her Auntie Elide wouldn’t agree with it, her uncles would laugh, Lysandra would egg her on and her father would give her a knowing smile.  _ Sometimes, your mother shows her love through unnecessary means. _

They were some of her most treasured memories, memories that lessened the ache in her heart every single time she thought of how far she was from home.

The thought spurred her on her feet towards the battle before her.

Kastiel was there, in all his power and glory, swinging away from his own sword Noctis in one hand and her father’s sword Solis in the other. The Prince of the Night was truly a sight to behold. His dark hair glistened against the sun rays shining through the crumbling ceiling. His clothes were worn and filthy, though he was a Prince through and through. Fenrys also fought alongside him, a stolen spear in his hand. At the thought of the Fey male she grew up with standing tall, a brief feeling of relief passed. The two seemed to be rounding up the horde of Valg creatures, making sure that they were far away from the throne of Orynth. Far away from her.

Seraphine knew better than to throw herself into the fray. She was still so weak, so useless in her state that she would just become a liability. The Wyrd stone in this room was preventing her Fey blood from healing itself, and it stopped any chances of her fire to spark. She supposed she could leave, get some help, figure out what to do, but what if the battle on the outside was as worse as in here? Unless she could figure out some other way to escape. Unless—she looked up at the once grand ceiling with its gaping holes, more than big enough to fit her through—she could find another way.

Thick, dark clouds peaked through the ceiling, blocking out the sunshine. There was only a Seraphine was sure that all her problems would be fixed once she gets out of this damned room made of Wyrd stone.

“Did I come at a good time?” // “My friends, did anyone inform you how rude it is to stay in your rooms when there is a family function outside?”

She looked up at the voice. Aures dismounted with such grace that it looked so out of place in the wreckage that surrounded her. The Witchling’s red cape fluttered from the breeze seeping in from the wrecked ceiling. A quick glance the only warning she gave to her closest friend.

Seraphine closed her eyes and let out a pulse of fire, so strong, so alive that it nearly knocked her to the ground. It radiated out of her, catapulting in a circle, dodging Kastiel, Aures and her wyvern and aiming straight towards the countless Valg creatures in the room. The whole castle rumbled underneath her. As soon as her powers touched the Valg, they ignited into red and orange and combusted from the spot.

The throne room of Orynth was instantly cleared.

Though Seraphine didn’t care. She let her tears flow freely, the small droplets falling onto Fenry’s face.

His heavy lids peered open. “Don’t,” he mouthed.

She didn’t stop him as his hand brushed her tear away. “How do we help you?”

Kastiel was instantly beside her, holding her hand, grounding her to the present. “Our powers are back, but I

“We’re getting thrashed outside,” Aures said. “What happened here?”

“He saved my life.”

“What? But what about the Va—”

“It’s gone,” Seraphine interjected.

“Is he still alive?”

“I don’t know.” She couldn’t stop the disappointment coating her voice.

“Then help him!”

Kastiel grabbed Aures by the arm, her iron nails narrowly avoiding his wrists. He pinned her with a look. “Talk to Seraphine like that again and—let’s just say you don’t want to know.” He let her go. “Now, unless you have some hidden witchcraft that could help us right now, then I suggest you be helpful and keep guard.”

Aures blinked, her eyes suddenly glazed with thought.

Kastiel dismissed her with such grace, that Aures was left speechless. He continued to look over Fenrys’ body, using pressure to hold down the wound under his hands. He was wearing the green and silver colours of Terresan, though it was stained and torn in multiple places, it still looked beautiful over his tan skin. His mouth was set determinedly.

Seraphine, wanting to be helpful, held her hands over his. She looked at him behind her lashes. Why did she feel this nervousness around him, like she doesn’t know what makes his heart race and his breathing lose control. She was about to reach over to help—to hold his hand—to do anything when a whoosh of air sounded behind her. Her eyes connected with Aures.

She didn’t even think as she followed Aures through the floor, her whole arm entering the living black hole. She had no strength, no power except for her fire. But that couldn’t have helped haul Aures up. It all happened too fast.

Aures’ weight dragged her down through the hole, Kastiel and Fenrys’ voice echoing behind her as the familiar feel of free falling encapsulated them both.

*****

“NO,” Kastiel growled as he watched in horror. 

Fenrys grunted, lifting his body up to examine the marbled flooring, free of the dark circular void. “That was—”

He cursed. “A Wyrd gate.”

“Wait—you don’t understand—”

“What is there to understand?” he spat out. “She’s gone! Both of them are.”

“I know Aures. There has to be a reason why she would do that.”

He took a deep breath.

In.

_ She’s fine. _

Out.

_ She’ll be alright _ .

“What are we going to do?”

Kastiel studied Fenrys’ bloodied body, his torn tunic, his busted face. “ _ We _ are not doing anything.” He trusted her. He had to. “I need to leave you somewhere the Valg can’t get to you.”

“What?”

He didn’t let the Fae finish his thoughts. Instead, he held his arms under Fenrys’ body and dragged him towards the nearest window. “You weigh a tonne,” he grunted as he leaned his body against the wall.

Kastiel peered out the dimmed window.

The sun was setting into a dusky set of orange and pinks.

He staggered back a step.

“What is it?” Fenrys asked bellow him.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He tried again, “there’s a whole army of them.”

“Of what? The Valg?”

He nodded. Once. Twice. He couldn’t stop. He had no words. This was a trap, he knew that. But the scale of the Valg on the streets, on the corners, on the alleys of Orynth were far greater than he had ever expected.

“What do you see?”

“My uncle, fighting beside Asterin. The Queen of Adarlan, slicing the Valg surrounding her, and her King, flying above her atop a small wyvern. He’s using his magic to fire at them from above. But even if he takes out twenty of them with one hit, a hundred more gather.” Kastiel took another step back, as a blinding orange light exploded in his vision, shaking the entire castle.

“What in the Gods was that?”

“Aelin. She just decimated a whole street.”

“ _ What? _ ”

“Look—it doesn’t matter now. I have to go.” He picked up Solis and Noctis. “Stay put, and scream if you need me. I’ll be able to hear you.”

“Wait—”

*****

Darkness swirled around her. Seraphine’s body convulsed. Her head thrummed along with the piercing sounds around her. She was falling, falling, falling and there was no one—no one here to save her anymore.

Until she saw it. 

A small set of dark, golden globes, staring straight at her in the darkness. And right in front of her, a palm streaked with blue blood.

And suddenly she wasn’t alone anymore.

As Seraphine reached, reached, reached, as she felt the slice of an iron nail along her own palm, she pressed her wet hand onto hers and welcomed the flood of warmth it sent her way.

Her own home.

A childhood of giggling.

A childhood of running through corridors, through gardens, through basements, always in search of adventures. Sharing each other’s secrets under a sea of stars, trusting each other, believing in each other.


End file.
